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HOME    LIFE 


MRS.   MADfoJNE  LESLIE'S 
HOME     LIFE     SERIES 


VOL.  I.    CORA  AND  THE  DOCTOR. 
"    II.    COURTESIES  OF  WEDDED  LIFE. 
"III.    HOUSEHOLD  ANGEL  IN  DISGUISE. 
"  IV.    JULIETTE;  OR,  Now  AND  FOREVER. 


JULIETTE; 


OR, 


NOW    AND    FOREVER 


BY 


MRS.  MADELINE  LESLIE. 


BOSTON: 

JL.KK       AND       S  H  K  P  A  R  D, 

149   WASHINGTON    STEEKT. 

1869. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

A  .      R  .      BAKER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


ROCKWELL  &  KOLLINS,  PRINTERS  AND  STIREOTYPKUS, 
122  Washington  Street. 


THE     MEMORY     OP 


WASHINGTON      IRVING 

Shis    tfohune    is    jjnstribrb, 


IJT  GRATEFUL  REMEMBKAKCE  OF 


THE  VERY  KIND  ENCOURAGEMENT  WHICH  HE  RENDERED 


THE   AUTHOR, 


IN  THE  EARLIER  EFFORTS  OF  HER  PEN. 


1 670707 


JULIETTE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


•'  Of  all  the  tyrants  that  the  world  affords, 
Our  own  affections  are  the  fiercest  lords." 

"  The  storm  of  grief  bears  hard  upon  his  youth, 
And  bends  him  like  a  drooping  flower  to  earth." 


IN  the  beautiful  town  of  H ,  overlooking  Long 
Island  Sound,  the  traveller's  attention  is  arrested 
by  two  large  country  residences  just  perceptible 
through  occasional  openings  of  the  thick  foliage,  and 
only  separated  from  each  other  by  a  swiftly-running 
streamlet. 

One  of  these  is  an  irregular  stone  edifice,  with  small 
bastions  at  the  corners,  capped  with  turrets,  some 
what  resembling  the  old  castles  of  transatlantic  coun 
tries,  with  large  Gothic  windows,  and  steep  slated 
roof.  It  stands  on  a  slight  elevation,  commanding  an 
extended  view  of  the  sound,  alive  with  steamboats, 
fishing-smacks,  and  whitened  with  the  sails  of  a  pros 
perous  commerce. 

The  other  building  is  of  more  modern  construction  ; 
being  square,  with  a  hip-roof,  a  long  L  extending 

7 


8  JULIETTE. 

back  from  the  main  house,  the  latter  ornamented  with 
deep  bay-windows,  and  a  spacious  portico  over  the 
front  entrance. 

Both  of  these  mansions  are  surrounded  by  rich 
grassy  glades,  upon  which  the  wide-branching  oaks 
and  the  stately  elms  throw  their  gnarled  arms  and 
pendant  boughs  over  the  thick  carpet  of  the  most 
delicious  greensward. 

The  winding  avenues  by  which  the  houses  are  ap 
proached  are  lined  with  beeches,  intermingled  with 
maples,  horse-chestnut,  mountain  ash,  and  evergreens 
of  various  descriptions,  so  closely  as  entirely  to  inter 
cept  the  view  from  the  street,  except  through  the  long 
vistas,  left  open  for -the  purpose,  in  which  the  eye 
delights  to  lose  itself. 

The  old  stone  mansion,  with  its  belongings,  had 
descended  to  Horace'  Fearing,  Esq.,  the  present  pro 
prietor.  The  other  house  had  been  built  by  Dr.  Mor 
rison,  upon  the  site  of  a  more  humble  residence, 
removed  to  the  end  of  the  lawn,  and  now  occupied 
as  the  farm-house. 

These  places  being  so  closely  connected,  and  the 
families  residing  in  them  having  for  many  years  main 
tained  the  most  intimate  friendship,  it  will  not  be 
deemed  strange  that  Edward,  oldest  son  of  the  former 
gentleman,  being  a  sprightly,  resolute  youth  of  nine 
teen,  had  cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  Juliette,  only 
daughter  of  the  good  doctor. 

Indeed,  to  speak  more  accurately,  neither  the  young 
man,  nor  the  maiden,  who  was  a  year  or  two  his  junior, 


JULIETTE.  9 

could  remember  the  commencement  of  their  acquaint 
ance,  which  dated  from  their  cradles.  If  the  state 
ments  of  their  nurses  were  to  be  credited,  the  first  act 
of  Master  Ned,  on  being  introduced  to  his  rosy  (I  can 
scarcely  say  blushing  companion),  was  to  thrust  his 
fingers  in  her  organs  of  vision ;  that  being  delighted 
with  the  effect  produced,  which  was  the  wide  opening 
of  the  tiny  mouth,  from  whence  issued  a  scream  of 
pain,  he  repeated  the  operation  again  and  again  until 
he  was  carried  forcibly  from  the  room. 

Nor,  according  to  the  same  testimony,  did  the  little 
miss  fail  to  revenge  herself,  but  waiting  a  few  months, 
until  her  plump  hands  had  learned  to  obey  her  will, 
she  took  the  occasion  when  her  young  companion  was 
playing  at  her  side  to  give  a  vigorous  pull  at  his  curls. 

From  the  time  when  Juliette  had  attained  her  first 
year  and  Eddie  his  third,  the  children  were  seldom 
long  separated.  If  the  weather  was  unpleasant,  and 
mamma  anxiously  suggested  that  the  young  gentleman 
remain  in  the  nursery,  there  would  issue  from  thence 
a  series  of  screams,  and  violent  thumpings  upon  the 
door;  in  fact,  such  an  outrageous  rumpus,  as  papa 
termed  it,  that  the  meek  lady  was  forced  to  submit  to 
the  powers  that  be,  while  the  young  heir,  who  had  a 
will  of  his  own,  early  learned  by  experience  the  truth 
of  the  homely  proverb,  "  where  there's  a  will  there's  a 
way." 

When  baby  Juliette  heard  his  merry  voice  in  the 
hall,  or  his  feet  climbing  the  staircase,  she  expressed 
her  welcome  by  shouts  of  delight  j  -  and  though  he 


10  JULIETTE. 

often  claimed  all  her  toys,  and,  as  they  grew  older,  in 
sisted  upon  his  right  as  a  boy  to  build  the  block  houses, 
while  she  meekly  contented  herself  with  the  privilege 
accorded  her  of  applauding  his  success,  yet  they 
continued  fast  friends. 

On  Juliette's  arriving  at  an  age  to  attend  school,  it 
was  a  matter  of  course  that  Ned  should  conduct  her 
there,  or  in  cold  weather  draw  her  on  his  sled ;  his 
stronger  will  even  then,  as  in  younger  years,  controll 
ing  hers  and  forcing  her  to  submit  to  his  caprices. 

Mr.  Fearing,  who  was  fond  of  the  law,  was  anxious 
that  his  sq.n  should  follow  his  example  and  choose 
that  as  his  profession.  Edward  was  undecided,  but 
thought  he  should  prefer  a  mercantile  life.  In  the 
mean  time,  however,  he  was  rapidly  fitting  for  college, 
and,  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen,  was  entered  at  one  of 
the  most  popular  schools  of  the  day. 

Juliette  remained  at  home,  pursuing  her  studies  in 
an  academy  in  her  native  town,  and  acquiring  those 
accomplishments  considered  indispensable  in  a  young 
lady's  education,  under  her  mother's  supervision. 

For  two  years  Edward  remained  contentedly  in  col 
lege,  distinguishing  himself  by  his  aptness  in  acquiring 
knowledge,  and  his  careless  expenditure  of  his  money. 
In  his  junior  year  he  imparted  to  Juliette  his  determi 
nation  to  leave  college,  and  go  into  business  in  connec 
tion  with  some  large  house  in  New  York. 

Possibly  this  information,  which  the  young  girl 
repeated  to  her  mother,  may  have  affected  her  future 
course.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Morrison,  who  had  long  thought 


JULIETTE.  11 

Edward's  influence  over  their  daughter  unfavorable 
to  a  proper  development  of  her  decision  of  character, 
rather  hastily  made  arrangements  for  her  to  leave  home, 
and  finish  her  education  in  a  distant  city. 

The  young  collegian  knew  nothing  of  this  change, 
but  having  suddenly  dissolved  his  relation  to  the  insti 
tution,  without  consulting  his  parents,  unexpectedly 
presented  himself  before  them. 

His  father  was  exceedingly  displeased,  and  vented 
his  anger  in  terms  such  as  the  son  had  never  heard 
from  his  lips ;  while  his  mild  and  yielding  mother 
meekly  expressed  her  sorrow  by  tearful  silence. 

"It  is  too  late,  sir,"  retorted  Edward,  haughtily,  "for 
me  to  return  to  college,  even  if  I  were  willing  to  do 
so,  which  I  am  not;  and  as  you  refuse  me  your  coun 
sel  and  aid  in  procuring  a  desirable  situation,  I  shall 
call  upon  my  friend,  Dr.  Morrison,  to  assist  me." 

Mrs.  Fearing  turned  her  meek  eyes  to  her  son's  face, 
and  thought,  "his  father  ought  to  make  allowance  for 
his  waywardness,  he  is  so  very  handsome." 

Edward  walked  across  the  room  with  the  air  of  a 
martyr  approaching  the  stake,  and,  flinging  open  the 
door,  said,  gruffly,  "I  shall  take  tea  with  Juliette,  and 
not  return  till  late." 

"Juliette  is  away,"  cried  Henry  Fearing,  a  youth  of 
fourteen  summers ;  "  haven't  you  heard  about  it  ?  She 
has  gone  to  T- to  attend  school." 

Edward  hurriedly  re-entered  the  room,  astonishment, 
anger,  and  grief,  by  turns  expressed  on  his  countenance. 
Advancing  to  the  side  of  his  mother,  he  asked,  hoarse- 


12  JULIETTE. 

ly,  "Is  this,  can  this  be  true,  and  I  not  even  informed 
of  it?" 

"Yes,  my  son,"  she  responded,  scarcely  daring  to 
raise  her  eyes  to  his.  "It  was  all  very  sudden ;  and  we 
scarcely  knew  of  it  until  —  certainly  not  in  time  to 
write  you." 

Edward  interrupted  her  with  a  groan.  Growing  very 
pale,  without  another  word  he  suddenly  left  the  room, 
rushed  to  his  own  chamber,  where  they  heard  him  shut 
the  door  with  a  crash,  and  fiercely  turn  the  key. 

Mr.  Fearing  glanced  at  his  wife,  who  was  weeping 
silently.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  this,"  he  exclaimed.  "  How 
long  has  he  loved  Juliette  ?  Is  there  any  engagement 
between  them?" 

"  He  has  loved  her  longer  than  he  can  remember," 
faltered  the  mother,  meekly.  "I  am  afraid  there  is 
trouble  before  him.  I  mean,  that  they  will  not  con 
sent." 

"Speak  plainly  for  once,  do,  Amelia,"  said  her  hus 
band,  in  a  bitter  tone.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Morrison  would  not  consent  that  Juliette 
should  marry  our  son  ?  " 

The  lawyer  drew  up  his  figure  to  its  full  height.  To 
one  who  gazed  at  him,  it  would  cease  to.be  a  wonder 
how  Edward  came  by  his  pride  and  inflexible  will. 

Mrs.  Fearing  wiped  her  eyes,  though  her  form 
shrank  from  her  husband.  "  Of  course  I  know  nothing 
about  it.  How  can  I?  I  only," — she  hesitated  and 
began  to  weep  again. 


JULIETTE.  13 

"Amelia,"  —  the  tone  was  stern,  —  "will  you  do 
me  the  favor  to  finish  your  sentence  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  imploringly.  "Sally,  Mrs. 
Morrison's  chamber-girl,  overheard  her  mistress  talking 
with  the  doctor  concerning  Edward.  They  thought 
he  was  about  to  return  home.  I  think  she  said  he  told 
Juliette  of  his  intention ;  and  they  resolved  to  remove 
her  from  him." 

"Did  you  ascertain  the  reason,  madam,  of  this  ma- 
nosuvre  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Fearing,  contemptuously. 

"  No,  I  asked  no  questions ;  but  Sally  heard  her 
mistress  say  that  Edward  was  so  passionate  —  I  don't 
think  they  understand  him  at  all  —  and  Juliette  so  ami 
able  that  he  ruled  her  completely ;  that  he  always  had 
made  her  yield  to  his  whims  ever  since  they  were 
babies  together.  She  didn't  think  Juliette  would  ever 
be  happy  if  they  were  connected."  Mrs.  Fearing 
sighed  heavily  as  she  ceased,  and  applied  her  Jiand- 
kerchief  again. 

The  lawyer  took  a  few  vigorous  turns  across  the 
room.  His  thoughts  were  evidently  not  the  most 
pleasant.  At  length  he  stood  opposite  his  wife,  and 
gazed  at  her.  "Amelia,"  he  began,  in  a  softened  tone, 
"  though  I  despise  the  manner  in  which  your  informa 
tion  was  gained,  I  am  glad  we  have  it.  Dr.  Morrison 
may  be  wise.  Certainly  if  he  had  been  present  this 
morning,  he  would  scarcely  have  chosen  Edward  as  a 
husband  for  his  only  daughter." 

"  O  Mr.  Fearing  I "  she  began,  in  a  tone  of 
meek  reproach;  "don't  you  turn  against  him.  I 
2 


14  JULIETTE. 

thought  —  I  hoped  so  much  from  your  —  your  inter 
vention." 

"I  love  Juliette,"  rejoined  the  gentleman,  thought 
fully,  without  noticing  her  remark.  "  I  know  no  one 
I  should  so  gladly  take  to  my  heart  as  a  daughter ;  but 
I  fear  —  yes,  she  is  so  lovely  in  temper,  so  amiable, 
so  yielding  —  I  fear  his  overbearing,  haughty  arro 
gance  would  kill  her.  Think  how  her  parents,  think 
how  we  should  feel  to  see  her  drooping  day  by  day. 
Oh,  they  are  wise  !  they  are  wise  ! " 

The  poor  mother  wept  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"It  will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  Edward,"  added  Mr. 
Fearing.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  the  nature  and  strength 
of  his  attachment.  He  will  fume  and  fret  like  a  caged 
lion  that  his  will  has  been  opposed ;  but  he  must  yield. 
I  will  have  no  compulsion.  Even  if  Juliette  consents, 
"  there  must  be  no  marriage  without  the  full  approba 
tion  of  our  friends." 

"But  she  loves  him,"  urged  the  anxious  mother, 
"  I  am  sure  she  does.  Only  the  day  she  went,  she  ran 
in  to  ask  for  his  last  letter ;  and  she  looked  very  sad 
as  she  said,  'Edward  will  be  sorry  I  am  gone.  I  wish 
I  could  have  stayed  till  he  came ;  but  I'll  write  my  good- 
by.'  Then  she  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck,  and 
said,  'I  love  you  dearly,  dearly,  almost  as  much  as  my 
own  mother  ! ' ' 

"  When  Dr.  Morrison  returns,  I  shall  talk  with  him," 
said  the  lawyer,  firmly.  "In  the  mean  time,  they  are 
both  young,  and,  with  such  a  motive  before  him,  Ed- 


JULIETTE.  15 

ward  can  learn  to  govern  his  passions.  Well,  we  shall 
see  !  we  shall  see  ! " 

"And  if  Juliette  really  loves  Edward,  it  will  be  a 
pleasure  for  her  to  give  up  to  him,"  said  the  little  lady, 
gazing  affectionately  in  her  husband's  face. 

Mr.  Fearing's  countenance  grew  tender.  He  stooped 
and  kissed  her  cheek.  "Few  ladies,  dear  Amelia, 
make  it  the  business  of  their  lives  to  study  their  hus 
band's  pleasure  as  you  have  done.  God  forgive  me  if 
I  have  ever  abused  the  trust  I "  He  lightly  touched 
her  brow,  and  went  hastily  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  n. 

"  Heaven  oft  in  mercy  smites,  e'en  when  the  blow 
Severest  is." 

IT  is  not  my  purpose  to  detain  the  reader  to  describe 
minutely  the  incidents  which  followed ;  but,  in 
order  to  delineate  the  early  character  of  Edward  Fear 
ing,  self-willed  and  passionate  as  he  was,  I  shall  glance 
at  events  occupying  more  than  a  dozen  years,  before 
we  pass  on  to  other  characters  more  immediately  the 
subject  of  our  story. 

Dr.  Morrison  and  his  wife  did  disapprove  of  Edward 
as  a  suitor  for  their  daughter,  and  kept  her  away  at 
school  for  two  years.  When  she  returned,  it  was  as 
the  affianced  wife  of  Mr.  Everett,  a  prosperous  mer 
chant  residing  in  T . 

The  evening  before  her  marriage,  Edward,  who  had 
remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  all  this,  rushed  home 
as  soon  as  he  received  his  cards  of  invitation,  called  at 
Dr.  Morrison's,  and  having,  by  a  great  effort,  forced 
himself  to  be  calm,  requested  Juliette  to  visit  with  him 
one  of  their  favorite  haunts. 

The  sun  was  just  setting,  and  its  red  rays  illuminated 
the  turret  windows  like  sheets  of  burnished  gold,  and 

16 


JULIETTE.  17 

lighted  in  brilliant  patches  such  portions  of  the  velvet 
turf  as  were  not  shaded  by  the  gigantic  trees. 

Juliette,  without  hesitation,  complied,  though  won 
dering  at  his  ill-concealed  emotion. 

They  wandered  on  by  the  bank  of  the  small  stream, 
until  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  when  he 
turned  upon  her  with  fierce  reproaches  for  having  em 
bittered  his  whole  life. 

Trembling  at  his  wild,  haggard  looks,  the  poor  girl 
yet  found  strength  to  ask,  "What  can  you  mean,  dear 
Edward?  "What  have  I  done,  that  you  should  speak 
so  cruelly  ?  " 

He  pointed  to  a  rustic  seat,  and  then  poured  out  the 
story  of  his  love.  Throwing  himself  upon  the  ground 
before  her,  he  wept ;  he  implored  her,  by  all  that  was 
sacred,  to  break  her  engagement  with  Mr.  Everett, 
and  be  his  wife. 

"He  is  a  stranger,  and  you  cannot  love  him,  Juli 
ette,"  he  urged.  "Certainly,  not  as  you  love  me. 
Oh,  speak,  dear  one,  and  say  you  do  not !  Say  you 
will  be  mine,  and  I  will  brave  the  world  for  your  dear 
sake.  Think  how  we  have  played  together,  —  how  I 
have  held  you  sleeping  in  my  arms,  when  we  sat  side 
by  side  at  school,  —  how  you  always  ran  to  meet  me, 
and  called  me  your  dearest  Ned.  Oh,  you  have  loved 
me,  Juliette  !  You  do  love  me,  and  you  will  send 
away  this  stranger,  who,  compared  with  the  all-absorb 
ing  passion  in  my  breast,  knows  nothing  about  love." 

Juliette  rose,  and  would  have  hastened  away ;  but 
he  held  her  almost  rudely. 
2* 


18  JULIETTE. 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  said,  with  a  quivering  lip. 
"You  ought  to  have  told  me  all  this  before.  I  have 
loved  you  as  a  dear  brother,  Edward,  and  perhaps, 
had  I  known  that  you  —  that  you  wished  it,  I  might 
have  been  your  wife.  But  Mr.  Everett  is  a  noble  man. 
He  has  sought  me  openly  and  honorably,  and  I  will 
not  break  my  word." 

Edward  started  from  the  ground  and  stood  erect 
before  her.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  but  he 
threw  it  off  as  if  it  stung  him. 

"Juliette,"  said  he,  and  his  voice  was  thick  and 
hoarse,  "I  have  always  supposed  you  would  be  mine, 
and  only  waited  your  return  from  school  to  demand 
you  of  your  father ;  but  forget  the  events  of  the  past 
hour,  and  may  God  forgive  us  both."  He  turned 
hastily,  and  his  form  was  soon  lost  in  the  fast  coming 
twilight. 

A  midnight  train  to  the  city  landed  him  in  New 
York,  and  three  months  later  he  wrote  to  his  parents 
to  announce  his  marriage  with  a  young  lady  in  high 
life. 

His  active  business  habits  and  his  unconquerable 
energy  rendered  him  so  important  to  the  firm  with 
which  he  was  connected,  that,  on  his  attaining  his  ma 
jority,  he  was  taken  in  as  partner ;  and  from  this  time 
wealth  flowed  in  upon  him  in  one  continuous  stream. 

From  the  hour  of  Juliette's  marriage,  he  was  never 
heard  to  mention  her  name.  When  his  mother  an 
nounced  to  him  the  birth  of  her  little  son,  whom,  in 
memory  of  their  old  friendship,  she  had  named  Horace 


JULIETTE.  19 

Morrison,  he  exhibited  so  much  emotion,  that  it  was 
with  a  beating  heart  and  unsteady  voice  three  years 
later  she  bore  to  him  the  mournful  intelligence  of  the 
decease  of  Mr.  -Everett. 

This  sad  event  occurred  within  a  few  weeks  of  the 
death  of  his  only  child ;  and  while  his  heart  was  soft 
ened  by  this  affliction,  he  wrote  Juliette  a  kind  letter, 
such  as  a  dear  brother  would  write,  and  which  proved 
balm  to  her  wounded  heart. 

Mrs.  Everett,  with  her  little  Horace,  returned  at 
once  to  her  father's ;  Dr.  Morrison  having  complied 
with  the  dying  husband's  wish,  and  consented  to  take 
the  care  of  Juliette's  property,  and  to  be  a  guardian  to 
their  child. 

Seven  years  later,  Mrs.  Edward  Fearing  died,  after  a 
lingering  sickness,  leaving  two  children  ;  a  son,  Henry, 
in  his  seventh  year,  named  for  Mr.  Fearing's  brother, 
recently  deceased,  and  a  daughter,  Juliette  Edwards, 
two  years  younger. 

It  is  but  justice  to  Mr.  Fearing  to  say  that  he  missed 
the  tender  affection  of  the  deceased,  toward  whom  he 
had  ever  evinced  the  kind  consideration  of  a  loving 
husband.  Nor,  though  his  thoughts  often  turned  to 
Juliette,  and  his  heart  beat  wildly  at  the  possibility 
that  she  might  now  be  his,  did  he  visit  her  until  his 
wife  had  been  dead  a  year. 

During  this  long  period  Mrs.  Everett,  whose  per 
sonal  charms  had  never  been  greater,  and  who  was 
possessed  of  a  handsome  fortune,  had  received  many 
eligible  offers  of  marriage.  Some  of  these  her  par- 


20  JULIETTE. 

ents  had  urged  her  to  accept ;  but  the  young  widow 
replied,  "In  your  society,  and  in  the  care  of  my  son, 
I  am  happy.  Why,  then,  should  I  change  my  condi 
tion?" 

But  when  Edward  presented  himself  before  her, 
that  beloved  friend  of  her  childhood,  whom  for  eleven 
years  she  had  not  once  seen,  when  he  plead  with  her 
to  be  a  mother  to  his  motherless  ones,  when  he  brought 
his  little  Juliette  to  add  her  entreaties  to  his,  her  heart 
responded  to  his  wish. 

The  bridal  was  a  gay  one,  for  Mr.  Fearing  stood 
high  in  the  world's  esteem ;  and  he  wished  all  his 
friends  to  share  in  his  joy. 

This  consummation  of  his  dearest  hopes  seemed  to 
cause  a  favorable  change  in  his  character.  He  had 
been  subject  to  fits  of  depression,  —  moodiness  as  his 
friends  termed  it, — now  he  exhibited  a  lightness  of 
heart  and  a  buoyancy  of  spirits  delightful  to  all  con 
nected  with  him. 

Toward  Juliette's  son  he  ever  acted  as  a  tender 
father,  and  soon  won  for  himself  the  hearty  affection 
of  the  amiable  child.  To  Henry  and  his  little  Juli 
ette,  he  was  excessively  indulgent,  though  he  obliged 
them  to  yield  strict  obedience  to  his  will.  As  they 
both  appeared  to  partake  far  more  of  their  mother's 
disposition  than  of  his,  this  was  no  difficult  task. 

After  Horace  became  an  inmate  of  the  family,  the 
most  lively  affection  grew  up  between  him  and  his 
young  playmates.  Being  three  years  older  than  Henry, 


JULIETTE.  21 

Horace  was  able  to  assist  him  in  his  studies,  besides 
being  ever  ready  for  a  vigorous  game. 

The  years  since  her  first  marriage  had  not  passed 
without  a  change  also  in  the  character  of  Juliette. 
Mr.  Everett  was  not  only  an  upright,  honorable  man 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  he  earnestly  strove  to 
guide  his  thoughts  by  the  law  of  God.  During  the 
four  years  he  lived  with  his  wife  he  urged  upon  her 
the  claims  of  religion,  and  on  his  death-bed  besought 
her  to  bring  up  their  son  in  the  nurture  and  admoni 
tion  of  the  Lord. 

Thus  early  bereft  of  her  loved  companion,  Juliette  de 
termined  to  follow  exactly  his  expressed  wishes,  not  only 
for  her  boy,  but  in  regard  to  the  duties  of  her  own 
heart.  She  endeavored  to  cultivate  firmness  and  self- 
reliance,  that  she  might  be  better  fitted  for  the  right 
training  of  her  child.  Choosing  as  she  did  the  quiet 
home  of  her  youth  in  preference  to  the  gayety  of  a  city 
life,  she  had  passed  many  hours  every  day  in  reading, 
and  in  thoughtful  meditation  upon  what  she  read. 

After  her  marriage  with  Mr.  Fearing,  she  found  to 
her  sorrow  that  (as  the  result  of  his  early  training)  he 
looked  upon  religion  as  calculated  to  make  one  gloomy 
and  morose, — that  he  considered  it  time  enough  to 
prepare  for  death  when  certain  that  the  hour  for  de 
parture  was  at  hand,  —  that  if  a  person  lived  an  hon 
est,  upright  life,  God  was  a  merciful  being,  and  all 
would  be  well  at  last. 

Discussion  upon  this  subject  she  found  was  worse 
than  useless. 


22  JULIETTE. 

"It  is  of  no  avail,  love,"  he  would  say,  tapping  her 
cheek  playfully.  "You  never  can  make  me  believe 
that  if  you  were  to  be  taken  from  me,  you  would  not 
go  straight  to  heaven ;  and  you  are  not,  and  I  trust 
never  will  be,  a  gloomy,  long-faced  fanatic." 

Juliette  therefore  prayed  and  sighed  in  secret, 
though  she  did  not  falter  in  the  work  of  imparting 
religious  instruction. to  the  dear  children,  nor  of  en 
deavoring  earnestly  to  instil  into  their  minds  correct 
motives  and  principles  by  which  they  were  to  regulate 
their  actions. 

Horace  and  the  little  Etta  were  particularly  suscep 
tible  to  serious  impressions ;  but  Henry  was  of  so 
volatile  a  nature  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  touch 
his  heart.  In  fact,  he  feared  the  displeasure  of  his 
brother  far  more  than  any  mere  punishment ;  and  such 
an  influence  did  Horace,  by  his  childish,  but  daring 
defence  of  the  right,  obtain  over  the  boy,  that  his  new 
mother  hoped  to  obtain  that  power  over  him  through 
her  son  which  she  could  not  bring  to  bear  directly 
upon  himself. 

At  a  later  period  she  mourned  over  that  feebleness 
and  timidity  which  had  led  her  to  yield  what  she  knew 
to  be  right,  with  the  hope  of  gradually  winning  her 
husband.  Three  years  after  her  marriage  to  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  she  gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  who  only  survived  a 
few  hours.  A  long  and  dangerous  illness  followed, 
from  which  she  never  wholly  recovered.  For  several 
months  she  was  confined  to  her  chamber,  and  here  her 
religious  impressions  were  deepened  and  confirmed. 


JULIETTE.  23 

She  longed  for  Christian  companionship,  for  some  one 
to  whom  she  could  unbosom  all  her  trembling  hopes, 
and  who  would  strengthen  and  encourage  her  in  the 
path  of  duty. 

At  length  so  earnest  did  these  desires  become,  that 
she  one  day  ventured  to  ask  her  husband  to  request 
their  minister  to  call  upon  her;  but  his  bitter  dis 
pleasure  prevented  her  from  ever  repeating  the  desire. 
Never  had  she  seen  him  so  angry.  Could  she  have 
imagined  the  fierce  agony  he  often  endured  at  the 
thought  of  the  possible  result  of  this  sickness,  and  his 
determination  to  drive  from  her  mind  all  thought  of 
death,  which  he  considered  a  certain  means  of  hasten 
ing  that  terrible  event,  she  might  not  have  been  so 
shocked.  As  it  was,  he  left  her  in  displeasure,  to 
weep  hours  over  what  she  thought  his  want  of  feel 
ing. 

Since  she  had  resided  in  New  York  she  had  often 
met  a  lady  whose  name  was  Osborn,  the  widow  of  a 
naval  officer.  Hearing  of  her  long-continued  sickness, 
Mrs.  Osborn,  who  lived  with  a  relative  in  the  same 
street,  ventured  one  day  to  call.  Mrs.  Fearing  soon 
found  the  lady  was  a  Christian.  Their  hearts  warmed 
toward  each  other ;  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  a 
friendship  which  grew  closer  and  warmer  until  they 
were  separated  by  death. 

The  effect  of  this  intercourse  upon  the  sick  lady  was 
most  happy.  Her  husband  was  rejoiced  at  the  change, 
and  most  cordially  invited  Mrs.  Osboru  to  pass  as  much 
time  with  his  wife  as  her  engagements  would  allow. 


24  JULIETTE. 

He  little  realized  that  it  was  the  very  religious  sym 
pathy  which  he  had  forbidden  her,  which  worked  such 
a  result.  Mrs.  Fearing  had  with  many  tears  informed 
her  friend  of  her  husband's  bitter  prejudices  ;  and  now 
she  too  dearly  prized  her  Christian  conversation  to 
hazard  its  loss  by  imparting  to  him  the  fact  that  relig 
ion  was  the  tie  which  bound  them  together. 

Late  in  the  autumn  it  became  evident  to  all  her 
friends  that  if  her  life  was  to  be  prolonged  she  must, 
be  taken  to  a  warmer  climate.  As  soon  as  this  was 
hinted  to  him,  Mr.  Fearing,  with  his  usual  energy, 
lost  not  a  moment  in  carrying  the  plan  into  execution. 
If  he  had  been  sure  he  should  have  lost  all  of  which  he 
was  possessed,  he  would  not  have  hesitated  a  moment. 
With  him  it  was  life  or  death  ;  for  he  would  not  allow 
to  himself  that  he  could  survive  her  loss.  Leaving 
their  children  in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Morrison,  they  em 
barked  for  St.  Augustine,  in  Florida,  a  place  highly 
recommended  to  them  for  invalids. 

It  was  a  dreadful  struggle  to  Mrs.  Fearing  to  be 
separated  from  her  children.  She  realized  that  it 
might  be  forever.  She  endeavored  to  impress  anew 
upon  their  tender  minds  the  lessons  she  had  taught 
them,  and  comforted  their  hearts  by  the  assurance  that 
though  they  were  separated,  God  was  near  each  of 
them,  and  would  listen  to  their  prayers  for  one 
another. 

It  was  a  sad  trial,  too,  to  leave  her  chosen  friend, 
Mrs.  Osborn ;  and  once  she  hinted  to  her  husband  that 
in  case  she  were  worse,  it  might  be  necessary  for  her 


JULIETTE.  25 

to  have  a  female  friend  as  a  companion.  But  in  his 
struggle  to  resist  the  convictions  fast  forcing  them 
selves  upon  him,  Mr.  Fearing  would  not  allow  the 
necessity  ;  and  so  they  parted. 

I  need  not  detain  the  reader  upon  the  months  which 
followed.  Late  in  the  succeeding  spring,  Mr.  Fearkig 
landed  in  New  York,  by  the  steamer,  having  brought 
home  his  wife  to  die. 

Yes,  she  yearned  to  see  her  children  and  parents 
once  more,  —  to  be  carried  to  her  old  home,  where 
she  could  gaze  upon  the  green  lawns,  the  broad-headed 
oaks,  the  gurgling  brook,  'and  the  glorious  setting 
sun, — before  her  soul  took  its  final  flight  from  earth. 
She  mentioned  the  name  of  Mrs.  Osborn,  and  her  hus 
band  immediately  sent  for  the  lady,  who  had  gone  to 
live  in  the  country,  to  come  and  pass  at  her  side  the 
hours  which  remained  to  her  dying  friend.  Hearing 
that  she  had  undertaken  the  care  of  a  school  as  a 
means  of  support,  he  nobly  assured  her  that  whatever 
loss  she  might  sustain  by  compliance  with  his  request 
should  be  amply  repaid. 

For  a  few  weeks  the  change  of  air  revived  the  inva 
lid,  and  her  husband  began  eagerly  to  talk  of  her  re 
covery.  Indeed,  nothing  displeased  him  more  than  to 
have  any  one  doubt  that  she  was  really  convalescent. 

But  the  fiat  had  gone  forth,  and  she,  about  whom 
were  clustered  so  many  hopes,  —  she,  who  was  more 
than  all  the  world  to  her  husband,  and  to  her  parents 
and  children,  —  must  lie  down  and  die.  None  were 
allowed  to  witness  the  fierce  conflict  in  Mr.  Feariug's 


26  JULIETTE. 

breast  when  he  was  made  to  realize  that  the  hour  had 
really  come  for  him  to  part  with  her.  With  a  wild, 
protruded  eye,  and  a  pale,  haggard  countenance,  he 
rushed  from  the  room,  and  shut  himself  up,  until 
called  by  an  attendant  to  take  his  last  farewell. 

She  was  almost  speechless ;  but  her  eye  brightened 
as  he  approached,  and,  feebly  placing  her  hand  in  his, 
she  murmured,  "Dear  Edward,  I  am  —  going  —  to  — 
my  Saviour.  My — soul  —  is  full  —  of — peace.  I 
shall  —  want  —  to  —  meet — you — there."  She  raised 
her  eyes,  as  she  uttered  the  last  word,  and  they  re 
mained  fixed.  A  glorious  vision  seemed  to  pass 
before  her.  She  clasped  her  hands,  while  a  heavenly 
smile  played  around  her  mouth.  One  slight  shudder, 
and  she  was  at  home  in  the  bosom  of  her  Saviour. 

"  '  Calmer  and  calmer  still,'  the  lady  cried, 
To  the  friend  who  stood  at  her  death-bed  side, 
And  asked  of  her  how  her  spirit  bore 
The  thought  of  its  flight  to  the  viewless  shore ; 
'  Calmer  and  calmer  still ;  for  much  doth  grow 
Plain  to  my  soul,  and  clear,  which  was  not  so. 
I  once  saw  frowns  upon  death's  pale  brow, 
.    But  it  is  calmer  and  calmer  now.'" 


CHAPTER  IH. 

"  She's  gone  I  forever  gone  1    The  king  of  terrors 
Lays  his  rude  hands  upon  her  lovely  limbs, 
And  blasts  her  beauty  with  his  icy  breath." 

WEEK  after  week  crept  wearily  by,  and  still  the 
bereaved  husband  could  not  tear  himself  from 
the  spot  where  he  had  laid  his  Juliette.  It  was  a 
shady  knoll  in  a  retired  part  of  his  father's  estate,  sur 
rounded  by  sycamore  and  cedar  trees.  Here  hour 
after  hour  he  lingered,  ever  thinking  of  the  past  happy 
days,  and  brooding  gloomily  over  the  thought  that  she 
whom  he  so  worshipped  had  left  him  forever. 

Oh  !  could  he  have  raised  his  tearless  eyes  to  the 
blest  regions  above,  and  viewed  her  rapt  spirit  before 
the  throne  of  the  Eternal ;  —  could  he  have  see'n  her 
spotless  robes,  her  crown  of  glory,  her  golden  harp ; 
—  could  he  have  heard  her  voice  joining  in  the  song 
of  ceaseless  adoration  to  the  Lamb  who  was  slain  for 
her  sins ;  —  could  he  by  faith  have  taken  hold  of  the 
promise,  "no  chastening  seemeth  for  the  present  joy 
ous,  but  grievous,  nevertheless  afterward  it  yieldeth 
the  peaceable1  fruits  of  righteousness  to  them  that  are 
exercised  thereby,"  —  he  might  have  bowed  humbly 

27 


28  JULIETTE. 

to  his  heavenly  Father's  will,  and  been  saved  long 
years  of  the  keenest  anguish  and  self-reproach. 

His"  father  and  Dr.  Morrison  both  urged  him  to  re 
turn  to  his  business,  and  endeavor  to  find,  in  the  daily 
cares  of  life,  a  relief  from  the  despondency  which 
seemed  gathering  like  a  thick  veil  about  him.  They 
brought  his  children  to  his  arms,  and  bade  them  talk 
of  their  lamented  mother,  that  his  bitter  sorrow  might 
find  vent  in  tears.  Alas  !  it  was  all  in  vain ;  the  lan 
guage  of  his  heart  was  ever,  — 

"  No  future  hour  can  rend  my  heart  like  this, 
Save  that  which  breaks  it." 

He  actually  loathed  the  idea  of  meeting  friends,  who 
might  venture  to  speak  of  the  loss  he  had  sustained. 
What  could  they  know  or  how  could  they  estimate 
what  she  was  to  him.  The  world  contained  but  one 
Juliette.  With  his  children,  too,  he  was  extremely 
fitful.  If  he  saw  them  weeping  and  disconsolate,  he 
would  strain  them  to  his  breast,  and  mourn  with  them ; 
but  if  with  the  buoyancy  of  childhood  they  forgot  for 
a  brief  moment  their  sorrow,  and  indulged  in  mirth, 
he  turned  upon  them  with  bitter  reproaches,  or  shrank 
from  their  presence. 

His  friends  felt  that  something  must  be  done  to 
rouse  him. 

One  morning  Horace,  who  was  now  in  his  fifteenth 
year,  approached  him  with  a  satchel  of  books.  "Fa 
ther,"  he  began,  "I  shall  lose  my  place  in  all  my 


JULIETTE.  29 

classes ;  for  I  have  gone  on  alone  as  far  as  I  can. 
Grandfather  thinks  I  had  better  go  home  and  resume 
my  studies." 

Mr.  Fearing  caught  the  boy's  hand.  "My  dear 
Horace,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  fear  my  grief  has  made  me 
selfish.  Yes,  you  shall  go.  We  will  all  go.  The 
effort  must  be  made.  We  will  go  to-day." 

Anticipating  this  sudden  move,  the  grandparents 
had  arranged  everything  to  forward  it ;  and  in  less 
than  four  hours  after  the  first  suggestion  the  whole 
party,  with  the  exception  of  the  little  Juliette,  were 
on  their  way  to  New  York.  Mrs.  Morrison,  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  wishes  of  her  dying  daughter,  pro 
ceeded,  the  next  day,  to  place  the  young  girl  in  the 
care  of  Mrs.  Osborn,  for  her  education. 

Arriving  in  the  city,  Mr.  Fearing  at  once  plunged 
into  business,  and  here  sought  forgetfulness  of  the 
past.  He  plainly  told  his  friends  that  he  wished  no 
reference  made  to  his  affliction.  He  laughed  and 
made  merry  over  his  wine,  and  closed  his  heart  firmly 
against  any  merciful  visitation  of  the  Spirit.  But  his 
midnight  hours  were  terrible.  Conscience,  that  mys 
terious  monitor  within  his  breast,  would  not  be  si 
lenced.  Even  in  his  uneasy,  unrefreshing  slumbers, 
he  heard  the  soft,  clear  voice  of  his  loved  Juliette  at 
prayer,  and  for  him,  —  heard  it  as  distinctly  as  he 
ever  had  heard  it  during  the  last  years  of  her  life. 
Bathed  in  moisture,  he  would  fling  himself  from  the 
couch,  and  stride  back  and  forth  through  his  chamber. 
But  he  could  not  shake  off  the  terrible  vision.  Juli- 
3* 


30  JULIETTE. 

ette,  pale  and  gasping  for  breath,  was  ever  before 
him,  but  with  an  angelic  smile  lisping  the  words,  "I — 
am  going  to  —  my  Saviour.  I — shall  want — to  meet 
you  there." 

"  Though  thy  slumber  may  be  deep, 
Yet  thy  spirit  shall  not  sleep. 
There  are  shades  which  will  not  vanish ; 
There  are  thoughts  thou  canst  not  banish." 

Resorting,  at  length,  to  a  powerful  opiate,  he  some 
times  succeeded  in  banishing  these  unwelcome  visit 
ors,  while  during  the  day  he  rushed  madly  into  the 
whirl  of  speculations.  Strange  to  say,  these  were 
always  successful,  and  as  years  rolled  on  he  came  to 
be  regarded  as  one  of  the  shrewdest  operators,  —  one 
of  the  most  successful  financiers  in  the  commercial 
world.  In  the  mean  time,  the  gracious  Spirit,  having 
knocked  long  and  loud  at  the  door  of  his  heart,  took 
his  departure.  Was  it  forever? 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  Horace  entered  college,  where, 
by  his  diligence  and  enthusiasm  in  study,  he  soon  took 
a  high  rank.  Henry  remained  at  school  in  the  city, 
where,  after  his  brother  left,  he  became  more  than 
ever  indolent  and  averse  to  application.  He  was  a 
youth  rather  loved  for  his  careless  generosity  than  re 
spected  for  his  manly  independence.  He  was  one  of 
those  unfortunate  beings  who  can  never  say  "no" 
firmly  and  decisively,  and  therefore  was  often  led 
astray,  and  made  the  tool  of  his  far  more  wicked 
associates. 


JULIETTE.  31 

Henry  wisely  avoided  any  collision  with  his  father, 
knowing  that  the  latter  had  a  stern,  unconquerable 
will ;  and  as  they  seldom  met  except  at  the  sumptuous 
meals,  attended  by  many  servants,  it  was  easy  for  the 
young  man  to  do  with  himself,  at  other  times,  pretty 
much  as  he  chose. 

Mr.  Fearing,  a  gay  man  in  a  gay  city,  knew  noth 
ing  of  all  this.  Seeing  that  his  "sou  was  fashionably 
dressed,  that  he  was  gentlemanly  in  appearance,  and 
respectful  in  deference  to  his  own  wishes,  he  thought 
that  while  he  supplied  his  heir  with  a  most  liberal 
allowance,  he  discharged  his  whole  duty  toward  him. 

Mr.  Fearing  was  now  in  the  prime  of  life.  Tall, 
erect,  and  of  slight  figure,  his  raven  locks,  flashing 
black  eyes,  and  well-cut  lips  distinguished  him  in  any 
company. 

Henry,  though  often  called  a  handsome  youth,  did 
not  at  all  resemble  his  father.  He  had  the  mild  blue 
eyes  and  the  light  auburn  hair  peculiar  to  his  mother's 
family. 

But  where,  all  these  years,  is  our  little  Juliette,  the 
heroine  of  our  story  ? 

In  the  quiet  village  of  D ,  more  than  fifty  miles 

from  the  city,  Mrs.  Osborn  had  established  her  family 
school.  Ten  young  girls  constituted  her  number;  and 
so  far  she  had  been  eminently  successful  in  her  teach 
ing.  Knowing  something  of  her  character,  it  will  be 
easy  to  judge  that,  while  securing  to  the  young  misses 
under  her  care  all  the  accomplishments  which  would 
fit  them  to  be  ornaments  of  society,  she  did  not  iieg- 


32  JULIETTE. 

lect  their  highest  good.  She  endeavored,  while  train 
ing  their  bodies  into  natural,  healthy,  and  therefore 
graceful  attitudes,  to  train  their  hearts  to  the  love  of 
the  virtuous,  the  true,  and  the  noble ;  while  she  cul 
tivated  their  intellect,  to  cultivate,  also,  their  affec 
tions.  While  she  endeavored  to  Wni  in  them  habits 
of  patient,  thorough  investigation,  she  nurtured  their 
moral  sentiments  according  to  the  standard  of  revealed 
truth. 

Juliette,  who  was  greatly  endeared  to  her  teacher, 
in  consequence  of  the  long  friendship  with  her  mother, 
strongly  resembled  Mrs.  Fearing  both  in  disposition 
and  character.  Like  her,  she  was  loving  and  generous 
in  the  bestowment  of  her  affections,  and  like  her,  also, 
she  was  extremely  timid  and  self-distrustful. 

Once  every  year  her  father  visited  her,  and  took  her 
to  his  paternal  home,  where,  in  alternate  visits  to  her 
grandparents  (the  parents  of  her  own  mother  having 
long  been  deceased) ,  she  passed  the  summer  vacation. 

With  her  father  she  was  always  shy  and  reserved, 
the  gloomy  abstraction  of  his  manner,  after  the  decease 
of  his  wife,  having  fastened  itself  upon  her  memory, 
to  the  forgetfulness  of  the  years  of  fondness  preceding 
it.  She  did  her  best  to  be  free  with  him,  and  talk  in 
the  unrestrained  manner  she  did  with  Mrs.  Osborn; 
but  she  was  always  painfully  conscious  of  not  appear 
ing  at  ease  in  his  presence,  and  of  a  sense  of  relief 
when  he  was  away. 

Though  under  the  fostering  care  of  her  teacher,  her 
health  was  much  firmer  than  in  her  earlier  years,  yet 


JULIETTE.  33 

she  was  extremely  delicate  in  appearance.  Her  com 
plexion  was  pale,  unless  excited,  and  then  the  elo 
quent  blood  rushed  into  her  cheeks,  painting  them  the 
color  of  the  richest  rose.  Her  eyes  and  lashes  were 
black ;  but  there  was  a  languid  softness  in  them,  re 
sembling  the  fawn.  When  she  was  merry  they  lit  up 
and  beamed ;  but  they  never  flashed  as  her  father's 
did.  Her  figure,  though  small,  was  perfect  in  its 
symmetry,  and  her  motions  were  grace  itself. 

Horace,  who  was  a  member  of  Yale  College,  was 
but  a  short  distance,  by  the  cars,  from  Mrs.  Osborn's 
residence,  and  often  passed  a  Sabbath  in  the  village. 
He  loved  his  sister,  and  found  new  beauties  in  her 
character  in  every  succeeding  visit.  Then,  she  had 
uncommon  powers  of  voice  in  singing,  and  accompa 
nied  herself  with  so  much  taste  and  feeling  upon  the 
piano  that  he  sometimes  invited  his  classmates  to  Mrs. 
Osboru's  to  hear  her. 

During  the  four  years  of  his  college  course,  Juliette 
learned  to  regard  her  brother  as  a  kind  of  mentor. 
She  kept  up  a  close  correspondence  with  him,  relating, 
with  girlish  frankness,  all  the  events  of  her  school  life, 
which  particularly  interested  her,  confessed  freely  her 
errors,  and  begged  him  to  help  her  correct  them. 

One  thing,  and  almost  the  only  one,  which  annoyed 
him,  was  the  hesitancy  with  which  she  expressed  her 
own  thoughts  upon  any  subject.  It  was  always,  "  Mrs, 
Osboru  thinks  so,  or  the  girls  say  this  or  that;"  but 
she  was  seldom  willing  to  give  her  own  independent 
opinion. 


34  JULIETTE. 

"Juliette,"  Horace  said  one  day,  "you  must  make 
up  your  mind  upon  a  subject,  and  then  be  firm  in  ad 
hering  to  your  views.  I  do  not  like  to  have  you  pin 
your  faith  upon  that  of  others.  You  have  an  undoubted 
right  to  maintain  your  own  ground.  Be  more  coura 
geous  and  daring,  my  dear  sister.  You  will  not  always 
be  allowed  to  remain  under  the  guiding  care  of  Mrs. 
Osborn.  When  you  are  older  you  will  often  be  obliged 
to  act  for  yourself,  and  you  must  learn  decision  while 
you  are  young." 

"But  when  I  leave  school,"  she  sweetly  replied,  "I 
shall  be  with  you,  Horace ;  and  you  have  promised 
always  to  tell  me  when  I  am  wrong." 

What  could  he.  do  but  lovingly  tap  her  cheek,  and 
press  the  hand  so  trustingly  placed  in  his  ? 

Of  Henry,  Juliette  knew  but  little.  As  she  had 
never  visited  New  York  since  her  mother's  death,  she 
had  only  seen  him  in  a  flying  call  at  their  grandfather's, 
during  her  summer  vacation.'  Pie  was  extremely  fond 
of  city  life  ;  called  the  country  a  dreadful  bore  ;  pitied 
his  sister  for  being  condemned  to  it ;  longed  for  her  to 
be  through  her  education,  that  he  might  have  her  to 
make  more  gay  his  city  home. 

Mr.  Fearing  had  often  been  urged  to  marry  again, 
and  one  lady  after  another  had  had  her  charms  of  per 
son  or  purse  pressed  upon  his  notice  ;  but  never  for  a 
moment  did  he  consider  the  possibility  of  giving  Juli 
ette  a  successor  in  his  affections. 

In  society,  he  was  polished  ;  so  that  he  was  much 
sought  after  by  the  fair.  He  was  gay  and  gallant ;  but 


JULIETTE.  35 

there  was  something  in  his  manner  which  forbade  the 
thought  of  love. 

In  truth,  he  often  asked  himself  why  he  went  into 
company  at  all.  Certainly  it  was  only  because  his  po 
sition  in  life  demanded  it ;  not  because  he  enjoyed  its 
gayeties.  He  began  now  to  be  impatient  for  his  daugh 
ter  to  return  from  school,  and  take  her  place  at  the  head 
of  his  household.  He  longed  for  some  new  attraction 
to  his  home,  and  doubted  not  her  presence  would  prove 
the  charm.  Horace  was  nearly  through  the  study  of 
law,  and  was,  in  a  few  months,  to  take  his  departure 
for  Europe,  for  a  year's  travel,  before  he  entered  upon 
the  practice  of  his  profession.  Henry  was  nominally 
engaged  as  clerk  in  a  large  warehouse,  but  really  seek 
ing  his  own  pleasure  in  every  form  of  dissipation. 

Mr.  Fearing  wrote  to  Mrs.  Osborn  that  he  should 

soon  be  in  D ,  to  remove  his  daughter  from  her 

care.  She  plead  for  another  year ;  but  having  made 
up  his  mind,  there  was  no  retraction;  and  the  good 
lady  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  prepare  her  dear  pupil  to 
change  her  quiet  home  for  the  fashion  and  gayety  of 
city  life. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  The  first  sure  symptom  of  a  mind  in  health 
Is  rest  of  heart  and  pleasure  felt  at  home." 

PUNCTUAL  to  his  appointment,  Mr.  Fearing  pre 
sented  himself  at  Mrs.  Osborn's  door,  to  receive 
his  Juliette  from  her  hands. 

The  young  girl  —  for  though  in  her  seventeenth  year, 
she  looked  very  young  —  came  forward,  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  and,  with  a  trembling  lip,  bade  him  wel 
come. 

"Hasten  your  preparations,  my  dear,"  said  he,  gaz 
ing  with  secret  annoyance  at  her  red  and  swollen  eyes. 
"  The  cars  leave  in  half  an  hour.  I  will  see  Mrs.  Os- 
born  in  the  mean  time." 

"I  have  endeavored,  Mr.  Fearing,"  said  the  lady, 
with  ill-suppressed  agitation,  "  in  the  education  of  your 
daughter,  to  fulfil  to  the  letter  the  wishes  of  your  la 
mented  wife  ;  and  I  am  more  than  repaid  by  being  able 
to  return  her  to  you  one  of  the  most  affectionate,  lov 
ing  hearts  it  has  ever  been  my  fortune  to  know.  Of 
her  accomplishments  you  will  soon  have  an  opportunity 
to  judge  ;  and  even  there  I  think  you  will  say  she  ex 
cels.  Her  career,  I  can  easily  prophesy,  will  be  a  bril 
liant  one.  But  not  until  you  allow  her  the  free  exercise 

30 


JULIETTE.  37 

of  her  dearest  hopes  and  wishes,  will  she  be  truly 
happy." 

"  What  can  you  mean,  madam?"  inquired  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  earnestly,  startled  by  a  sudden  suspicion.  "I 
trust  my  daughter  has  been  allowed  to  form  no  im 
proper  attachment?" 

Mrs.  Osborn  smiled.  "Feel  no  concern,  sir,"  she 
answered,  "on  that  subject.  Juliette,  I  can  assure 
you,  is  heart-whole.  But  she  is,  as  I  humbly  hope,  a 
Christian  ;  and  therefore  —  " 

"  Madam,"  said  the  gentleman,  sternly,  "  do  I  under 
stand  that  you  have  been  imparting  to  my  child  views 
of  religion  which  will  prevent  her  enjoyment  of  the 
gayeties  natural  to  her  age?  If  so,  I  have  been  indeed 
deceived,  and  may  live  to  curse  the  hour  she  was  placed 
under  your  roof.  How  long  has  this  system  been 
going  on  ?  and  why  has  it  been  kept  secret  from  me  ? 
Do  you  know,  madam,  you  have  been  interfering  with 
all  my  plans  for  the  advancement  of  my  daughter's 
interest  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  nothing  which  will  hinder  the  advance 
ment  of  her  best  good,"  remarked  the  lady,  with  great 
dignity. 

"  Juliette  shall  be  made  to  give  up  these  absurd  no 
tions,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fearing,  angrily.  "She  will  be 
a  star  among  her  fashionable  friends ;  and  amid  the 
gayeties  of^  city  life  she  will  soon  forget  all  but  the 
wish  to  be  admired."  The  gentleman's  lip  curled  con 
temptuously,  recalling  forcibly  to  the  lady's  memory 
painful  scenes,  long  forgotten,  in  the  life  of  his  wife. 
4 


38  JULIETTE. 

"Beware!"  said  she,  hurriedly,  as  she  heard  Juli 
ette's  step  approaching.  "  She  is  a  tender  flower,  and 
will  droop  under  the  least  unkindness." 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Fearing's  efforts  at  self-control, 
the  flashing  of  his  eye  showed  that  he  was  extremely 
angry.  He  took  his  daughter's  hand,  as  she  entered, 
and  said,  in  a  sharp  tone,  "Come,  it  is  time  we  were 
off.  Bid  adieu  to  Mrs.  Osborn ;  for,  with  my  consent, 
you  shall  never  see  her  again." 

Startled  and  trembling,  the  young  girl  gave  one 
glance  into  her  father's  face,  and  then  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  her  kind  friend,  weeping  bitterly. 

With  a  contemptuous  "  Pshaw  !  "  Mr.  Fearing  hast 
ened  to  direct  the  coachman  to  pack  on  the  trunks, 
while  the  sobbing  girl  whispered,  "  Oh  !  why  is  this  ? 
What  have  I  done?" 

"Nothing  wrong,  my  darling,"  said  the  lady,  con 
trolling  her  own  grief.  "  You  will  have  sharp  trials  to 
encounter.  But  do  right,  only  do  right,  and  all  will 
be  well.  I  will  pray  for  you,  and  write  you  often." 

"Juliette,  I  am  waiting,"  called  her  father. 

They  rode  on  in  silence,  the  poor  girl  making  no 
effort  to  restrain  her  grief. 

"  We  are  approaching  the  depot,"  the  father  said, 
trying  to  soften  his  voice. .  "  Wipe  your  tears,  or  cover 
your  face.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  be  a  spectacle  for 
others  to  gaze  upon."  . 

Juliette  quickly  pulled  down  her  veil.  Her  heart 
was  ready  to  burst,  and  in  vain  she  tried  to  check  her 
sobs.  She  had  wept  half  the  preceding  night,  at  the 


JULIETTE.  39 

thought  of  being  separated  from  her  beloved  teacher 
and  her  young  companions  ;  but  that  grief  was  as  noth 
ing  in  comparison  with  the  shock  she  had  received  by 
her  father's  stern  manner  and  terrible  words.  In  all 
her  dreams  of  her  city  home,  she  had  fancied  Mrs.  Os- 
born  as  a  frequent,  a  loved,  and  honored  guest ;  while 
in  turn  she  had  played  the  hostess  to  each  of  her  young 
school-mates.  How  suddenly  had  these  pleasant  vis 
ions  vanished ! 

During  the  long  ride  in  the  cars,  she  had  only  one 
item  of  comfort,  and  that  was  the  thought  that  Horace 
would  be  living  under  the  same  roof, — that  he  would 
tell  her  how  far  she  ought  to  conform  to  her  father's 
wishes,  —  that  he  would  sympathize  in  her  distress. 

As  they  approached  the  city,  she  put  a  constraint 
upon  her  feelings,  drew  up  her  veil,  and  tried  to  inter 
est  herself  in  the  view  from  the  window. 

Mr.  Fearing,  who  had  not  unwillingly  resigned  his 
seat  by  her  side  to  a  lady,  occupied  one  directly  back 
of  hers  ;  and  as  she  lifted  her  veil,  and,  in  the  mirror 
opposite,  he  caught  a  glance  of  her  pallid,  care-worn 
countenance,  his  heart  smote  him.  "I  have  made  a 
mistake,"  he  said  to  himself.  "My  anger  has  carried 
me  too  far.  She  is  young,  and  may  be  easily  moulded 
to  my  wishes.  I  should  have  aimed  to  influence  her 
through  her  affections.  Now  I  can  see  she  shrinks 
from  me.  Mrs.  Osborn  —  pshaw  !  I  have  no  patience 
with  her.  It  has  been  a  long  plot  to  deceive  me. 
Juliette  shall  learn  that  my  will  must  be  obeyed." 

When   they  alighted   from   the   cars,   Peter,   their 


40  JULIETTE. 

coachman,  was  awaiting  them.  Giving  him  the  checks 
for  the  trunks,  Mr.  Fearing  tenderly  lifted  his  daugh 
ter  into  the  splendid  vehicle. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  he  said;  "forget  the  events  of 
the  last  few  hours,  and  only  remember  that  you  have  a 
father  who  will  endeavor  to  make  you  happy.  You 
will  have  a  brilliant  position,  Juliette.  Your  company 
will  be  eagerly  sought  for.  You  will  be  the  envy  and 
admiration  of  society.  Indulge  me  with  smiles  when 
you  can,"  he  added,  playfully  taking  her  hand,  "for 
my  heart  has  long  been  desolate." 

"O  father  !  "  she  exclaimed,  eagerly  ;  "I  will  try  to 
be  all  you  wish  ;  "  and  she  raised  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

"Here  we  are  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  in  a  gay  tone, 
as  the  carriage  stopped  before  an  elegant  freestone 
mansion. 

She  gazed  earnestly  from  the  window  at  the  lofty 
building,  one  story  towering  above  another.  "  It  looks 
so  high  and  strange,"  she  said,  laughing.  "I  have  not 
seen  it  for  six  years." 

A  colored  porter  threw  wide  open  the  ponderous 
doors  to  admit  his  young  mistress. 

"Welcome  home,  miss!"  he  said,  grinning  till  he 
showed  all  his  white  teeth. 

Mr.  Fearing  laughed  at  her  shy  look  and  rosy  blush. 
"  Send  Mrs.  Cummings  to  me,"  he  said  to  a  servant. 
"  She  must  throw  off  that  girlish  shyness,"  was~  his 
silent  reflection  ;  "and  yet  it  is  most  attractive.  It  is 
absolutely  reviving  to  see  anything  so  fresh  and  pure 
in  New  York." 


JULIETTE.  41 

These  were  his  thoughts  as  he  led  her  into  the  par 
lor,  and  stood  watching  her  eager,  rapid  glance  around 
her. 

Mrs.  Cummings  soon  appeared  and  was  introduced 
to  her  young  lady.  "Let  Eliza  unpack  your  trunks  at 
once,  my  dear,"  said  her  father,  "  so  that  you  can  dress 
for  dinner.  It  wants  only  an  hour  to  the  time,"  glanc 
ing  toward  a  beautifully  ornamented  French  clock. 

"  Dress  for  dinner,  father  ?  "  she  repeated ;  "  dinner 
at  six?" 

"  Yes,  child,"  he  answered,  laughing  gayly.  "  Where 
have  you  lived,  I  wonder?" 

"  We  always  have  dinner  at  Mrs.  Osboru's  at  half- 
past  two,  and  at  grandfather's  at  three,  unless  they 
have  grand  company." 

"  Well,  we  are  to  have  grand  company  to-night,"  he 
responded,  much  amused.  "No  less  than  Miss  Juli 
ette  Fearing  ;  but  run  away,  or  you  will  not  have  time 
to  dress,  and  remember  your  brothers  will  be  impatient 
to  see  you." 

She  caught  his  hand,  kissed  it  warmly,  and  with  a 
most  tender  glance  into  his  face,  followed  the  staid, 
dignified  housekeeper  up  the  long  flight  of  stairs  to  a 
magnificently  furnished  room  in  the  third  story. 

Exclamations  of  "  Oh,  how  beautiful !  Can  this  be 
for  me  ?  What  exquisite  mirrors  !  What  rich  curtains  ! " 
followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession. 

Eliza,  her  own  maid,  as  Mrs.  Cummings  informed 
her,  opened  the  door  of  a  room  adjoining,  and  dis 
closed  a  beautiful  apartment  over  the  wide  hall,  which 
4* 


42  JULIETTE. 

her  father  had  fitted  as  a  boudoir.  In  one  corner  stood 
a  harp,  while  the  choicest  gems  of  art,  both  pictures 
and  statuary,  adorned  the  walls  and  niches. 

The  waiting-maid  hurriedly  pulled  one  article  after 
another  from  the  trunks,  in  the  vain  expectation  of 
finding  something  more  fashionable ;  and  then,  seeing 
her  young  mistress  would  not  soon  be  weary  of  exam 
ining  the  bijouterie  profusely  scattered  around  her 
apartments,  ventured  to  suggest  that  the  dinner-bell 
would  soon  be  heard. 

"Oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  Juliette;  "and  I  can  have 
time  to  look  at  all  these  beauties  another  day.  Oh, 
how  I  wish  Ella  and  Hatty  and  all  the  girls  could 
enjoy  them  with  me  !  " 

Eliza  smiled,  and  began  to  take  down  her  lady's 
hair. 

"I  always  do  up  my  hair  myself,"  cried  the  young 
lady  ;  "  and  I  can  do  it  much  quicker.  I  cannot  stop 
to  braid  it  to-day." 

"  O  miss !  your  brother  is  very  particular.  The 
ladies  all  say  Mr.  Henry  has  such  exquisite  taste. 
You  had  better  let  me  do  it  for  you.  That  coil  is 
very  old-fashioned." 

Juliette  yielded,  and  her  rich  tresses  were  rapidly 
plaited  in  the  latest  style.  Her  party  dress  and  orna 
ments  were  then  brought  out,  and  she  was  arrayed  in 
them,  though  not  without  a  gentle  remonstrance  that, 
after  all,  it  "  was  only  a  family  dinner." 

"  Your  father  will  soon  new  furnish  your  wardrobe, 
miss,"  said  the  girl,  who  thoroughly  understood  her 


JULIETTE.  43 

own  business ;  "  and  maybe  there  will  be  a  dozen 
guests." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  was  the  earnest  response.  "I 
want  to  see  my  brothers  alone." 

When  the  dinner-bell  rang,  Juliette,  hastily  taking 
from  her  waiting-maid  a  perfumed,  embroidered  hand 
kerchief,  ran  down  the  stairs.  Her  father  was  waiting 
in  the  hall,  and  gave  her  his  arm  to  the  dining-room. 
As  soon  as  he  heard  her  voice,  Horace  came  eagerly 
forward  to  welcome  her,  and  Henry  followed  closely 
behind  him. 

The  older  brother  kissed  her  affectionately,  bringing 
a  warm  tint  to  her  cheek.  Henry  stood  back  a  mo 
ment,  eyed  her  curiously,  then  raised  the  tips  of  her 
fingers  to  his  lips.  "  Not  so  bad  after  all,"  he  said, 
with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"For  shame,  Henry  !  "  said  Mr.  Fearing,  smiling  as 
he  saw  Juliette  raise  her  head  with  dignity  at  this 
treatment.  "  For  shame  !  Is  this  the  way  to  welcome 
your  sister?" 

"Miss  Fearing,  excuse  me,"  exclaimed  Henry,  with 
a  tone  of  mock  regret.  "Be  assured,  no  one  rejoices 
more  sincerely  than  I  do  at  your  return ; "  and  he 
placed  his  hand  in  a  theatrical  manner  on  his  heart. 

Juliette  laughed  merrily.  It  was  a  clear,  musical 
laugh,  and  echoed  pleasantly  through  the  spacious 
room.  The  party  were  evidently  in  the  best  of 
spirits,  as  Mr.  Fearing  led  his  daughter  to  the  seat 
opposite  his  own,  while  the  others  stood  waiting  for 
her  to  be  seated. 


44  JULIETTE. 

"  O  father ! "  she  began ;  but,  catching  a  glance 
from  Horace,  she  quickly  took  the  chair  the  servant 
was  holding  for  her  use. 

The  hour  since  she  left  him  had  been  diligently 
spent  by  her  father  in  forming  plans  for  her  introduc 
tion  into  society.  He  thought  he  saw  his  way  clear  to 
the  fulfilment  of  his  wishes,  notwithstanding  the  ter 
rible  announcement  of  Mrs.  Osborn.  "I  see  how  it 
"is,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  wandered  ruthlessly  over 
the  velvet  flowers  with  which  the  parlors  were  strown  ; 
"  I  must  dazzle  her  eyes  with  splendor.  She  will  soon 
be  in  such  a  whirl  of  gayety  that  she  will  have  no  time 
for  gloomy  thoughts.  She  is  very,  very  lovely ;  and 
I  shall  take  pride  in  introducing  her  as  my  daughter. 
If  I  do  not  greatly  mistake,  I  can  govern  her  com 
pletely  through  her  affections.  How  quickly  she  threw 
off"  her  constraint  when  I  treated  her  with  tenderness. 
Sweet  child  !  what  a  treasure  my  lost  Juliette  would 
have  deemed  her !  Ah  !  how  much  I  regret  my  mis 
take  in  woiinding  her  gentle  heart ;  but  she  seems 
wholly  to  have  forgotten  it.  Well,  henceforth  her 
path  shall  be  strown  with  roses,  and  in  their  fragrance 
she  shall  forget  there  is  such  a  messenger  as  death." 

The  dinner  —  though  for  reasons  easily  imagined 
Mr.  Fearing  had  chosen  to  have  strictly  confined  to 
his  family  —  was  far  beyond  anything  Juliette  ever 
remembered  to  have  witnessed.  One  course  after 
another  was  brought  on ;  many  of  them  removed 
without  being  tasted.  She  was  invited  to  drink  wines, 
of  which  she  knew  not  even  the  names,  and  when  she 


JULIETTE.  45 

playfully  declined,  was  told  by  Horace  that  a  gentle 
man  considered  it  an  insult  for  a  lady  to  refuse  to 
drink  with  him ;  but  that,  if  she  disliked  it,  she  might 
only  raise  the  glass  to  her  lips. 

Before  they  arose  from  the  table,  the  young  girl  be 
came  afraid  she  should  sadly  disgrace  herself  in  the 
eyes  of  her  father's  fashionable  friends,  and  wished 
for  a  little  delay  before  she  was  introduced  into 
society. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  three  gentlemen  were  intent 
on  watching  her  every  motion.  Even  the  pretty  blush 
as  she  took  her  plate  from  the  waiter  who  stood  behind 
her  chair,  and  the  low-spoken  "Thank  you,"  when  he 
eagerly  anticipated  her  wants,  were  irresistibly  at 
tractive. 

When  they  returned  to  the  parlor  and  drew  their 
chairs  together,  for  conversation,  there  was  a  girlish 
abandon,  a  freedom  from  affectation  in  all  that  she 
said  and  did,  exhibiting  to  her  father  and  Horace  such 
a  pure  and  lovely  spirit,  that  they  were  charmed. 

Henry  paid  her  the  compliment  of  remaining  in  the 
parlor  for  an  hour,  and  before  he  left  declared  it  was 
only  for  his  peace  of  mind  he  tore  himself  away,  as  he 
was  more  than  half  in  love  with  his  sister  already. 

"Don't  be  out  late,  my  son,"  urged  Mr.  Fearing,  a 
shade  of  anxiety  crossing  his  features. 

"  Father,"  said,  Juliette,  when  she  had  shyly  accepted 
a  seat  on  his  knee,  "I'm  afraid  you  will  be  ashamed 
of  me  when  you  have  guests.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  I 
should  not  in  my  ignorance  insult  them  terribly,  as  I 


46  JULIETTE. 

did  you  and  Horace,  to-day.  And  they  would  scarcely 
tell  me  of  it  as  candidly  as  he  did." 

"  Never  fear,"  responded  Mr.  Fearing,  in  a  gay  tone. 
"  You  have  a  natural  quickness  at  adapting  yourself  to 
the  company  you  are  in,  which  will  do  you  good  ser 
vice.  When  you  are  in  company,  watch  those  ladies 
who  please  you  best,  and  imitate  them." 

"  I  would  hardly  advise  that,"  added  Horace,  eagerly. 
"I  am  satisfied  with  my  sister  as  she  is." 

An  hour  more  was  passed  in  hearing  Juliette  play 
and  sing,  her  brother  accompanying  her  in  some  Italian 
duets ;  and  then,  as  the  tiny  clock  struck  the  hour  of 
ten,  the  young  girl  started  to  retire. 

Mr.  Fearing  laughed  heartily.  "You  are  a  little 
rustic,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  the  New  York  world 
are  just  waking  up,  to  begin  the  gayeties  of  the  night. 
Henry,  I'll  venture  to  say,  will  attend  two  or  three 
parties  more  this  evening.  Ring  your  bell  for  Eliza, 
my  dear,  if  she  is  not  already  in  your  chamber.  She 
has  nothing  to  do  but  attend  upon  you." 

She  put  up  her  pretty  mouth  for  a  kiss,  and  then 
tripped  lightly  up  the  stairs. 

"  What  a  girlish  little  thing  it  is,  to  be  sure  ! "  re 
marked  Mr.  Fearing,  all  a  father's  pride  beaming  in 
his  countenance.  "  She  will  make  a  great  sensation,  — 
hey,  Horace?" 

The  young  man  sighed.  "  What  a  pity  it  would  be 
for  her  to  exchange  those  artless  ways  and  pure 
thoughts,  for  the  hackneyed  manners  and  heartless 


JULIETTE.  47 

conversation  of  a  city  belle  !  How  long  will  she  con 
tinue  fresh  and  lovely  as  she  is  now,  do  you  think?" 

"True,  I  have  thought  of  all  this.  Oh,  how  many 
times  this  evening  I  have  wished  your  mother  were 
here  to  guide  her  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  appears  to  me  she  labors  under  a  great  dis 
advantage  in  not  having  a  female  friend  on  whom  she 
can  rely.  Some  one  who  — " 

"I  will  have  none  of  them,"  interrupted  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  sharply.  "  Even  Mrs.  Osborn  has  deceived  me  ; 
though,  after  all,  I  owe  her  many  thanks  for  returning 
my  daughter  an  unsophisticated  girl,  instead  of  an 
affected,  conceited  boarding-school  miss.0' 

Horace  rose.        *• 

"Are  you  going  out  to-night,  my  son?" 

"No,  sir;  for  once  I'll  imitate  a  worthy  example, 
and  retire  to  bed." 

"  Good-night,  then.  I  confess  I  have  enjoyed  more 
this  evening  than  I  can  easily  tell  you." 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  It  is  sad 

To  think  how  few  our  pleasures  really  are ; 
And  for  the  which  we  risk  eternal  good." 

ELIZA  was  awaiting  her  young  mistress,  having 
carefully  sorted  her  wardrobe,  and  laid  the 
clothes  in  the  drawers. 

While  at  school,  Mr.  Fearing  had  given  his  daugh 
ter  a  liberal  allowance ;  but  Mrs.  Osborn  wisely  for 
bore  the  purchase  of  articles  which,  by  distinguishing 
Juliette  from  the  others,  would  cultivate  an  excessive 
fondness  for  dress. 

Every  year,  however,  she  had  received  rich  presents 
from  her  grandparents ;  generally  some  expensive  set 
of  jewels,  or  valuable  addition  to  her  wardrobe. 

Eliza  was  quite  sure  that  her  opinion  would  be  asked 
by  Mr.  Fearing  concerning  the  replenishing  of  his 
daughter's  attire.  She  was  prepared  to  give  it. 

Juliette,  after  leaving  her  father  and  brother,  hast 
ened  to  her  room,  her  heart  beating  warmly  with 
gratitude  and  love  to  her  heavenly  Father,  who  had 
cast  her  lot  in  such  pleasant  places.  She  longed  to 
throw  herself  upon  her  knees,  and  give  vent  to  her 
feelings  in  words  of  praise ;  but  the  presence  of  her 

48 


JULIETTE.  49 

maid  restrained  her.  She  allowed  herself  quickly  to 
be  disrobed,  therefore,  though  feeling  all  the  time  that 
she  much  preferred  the  old  way  of  waiting  on  herself; 
and  then,  assuming  a  warm  dressing-gown,  assured 
Eliza  that  she  had  no  further  need  of  her  services,  as 
she  intended  to  read  awhile  before  retiring.  The  im 
pressions  of  the  evening  had  been  so  wholly  pleasant, 
that  not  until  she  had  read  her  portion  of  Scripture  and 
committed  herself  to  His  hands  who  had  hitherto  or 
dered  her  path  in  so  much  mercy,  did  her  mind  revert 
to  the  events  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  day. 

The  more  she  reflected  upon  it,  the  more  puzzled 
she  became  to  account  for  the  excitement  and  dis 
pleasure  exhibited  by  her  father  on  parting  from  Mrs. 
Osborn.  And  then  those  terribly  earnest  words,  whis 
pered  with  so  much  emotion  in  her  ear,  "  Yon  will 
have  sharp  trials  to  encounter ;  but  '  do  right  —  only 
do  right'  —  and  all  will  be  well."  What  could  they 
mean?  "What  dreadful  afflictions  are  before  me?" 
she  asked,  again  and  again.  "I  know  father  some 
times  speaks  sharply ;  but  he  is  so  kind  and  tender, 
his  eyes  beam  so  fondly  upon  me,  I  am  sure  he  loves 
me ;  and  then  his  words,  'Forget  everything,  but  that 
you  have  a  father  who  will  endeavor  to  make  you 
happy.'  Certainly,  I  shall,  as  Mrs.  Osborn  says,  try 
to  do  right ;  and  if  I  do,  God  will  help  me."  And 
then,  with  a  determination  to  write  at  once  to  Mrs. 
Osborn,  in  spite  of  the  continual  rumble  of  carriages 
over  the  pavement,  she  fell  into  a  sweet  and  tranquil 
slumber. 

5 


50  JULIETTE. 

In  the  morning  she  arose  and  partially  dressed  her 
self,  that  she  might  have  time  for  her  early  devo 
tions  before  she  rang  for  her  maid.  Then  gracefully 
yielding  herself  into  the  hands  of  her  skilful  attendant, 
she  was  quite  startled  at  the  image  presented  by  her 
mirror ;  her  soft,  rich  braids  of  hair  being  entwined 
with  the  scarlet  blossoms  of  the  fuchsia  and  wound 
around  her  well-shaped  head. 

"It  is  small  credit  to  me,  miss,"  said  Eliza,  smiling 
at  the  young  lady's  look  of  pleased  surprise.  "Such 
rich  and  abundant  tresses  as  I  have  to  do  with.  There, 
miss,  let  me  hold  the  hand-glass  for  you  to  look  be 
hind.  Your  brother  will  be  delighted,  miss." 

"  Which  brother?"  asked  Juliette,  with  a  blush. 

"  Mr.  Henry,  miss.  The  young  ladies,  where  I  was 
at  service  last,  were  always  talking  of  Mr.  Henry 
Fearing.  They  thought  him  very  handsome,  and  very 
polished,  and  so  on." 

Juliette  laughed,  and  wondered  to  herself  whether 
anybody  could  doubt  that  Horace  was  much  handsomer 
and  more  noble-looking  ;  but  perhaps  these  ladies  were 
not  acquainted  with  him. 

Being  assured  by  Eliza  that  the  breakfast-bell  would 
not  ring  for  an  hour  or  two  yet,  the  young  girl  resolved 
to  tune  her  harp,  and  have  a  good  practice  upon  it. 
She  had  scarcely  touched  the  first  note  before  Horace 
joined  her. 

"I  must  improve  all  the  moments  I  have,"  he  said, 
gayly ;  "  for  I  prophesy  you  will  not  arise  so  early  a 
month  from  this  time." 


JULIETTE.  51 

"  And  why  not,  pray ?"  she  asked,  innocently.  "I 
mean  to  take  this  hour  for  ray  practice  in  music.  I 
cannot  play  well  upon  the  harp." 

The  young  man  laughed,  though  he  said,- "I  don't 
know  but  I  ought  to  cry.  Why,  my  dear  sis,  when 
you  are  out  night  after  night  at  the  theatre  and  opera, 
at  parties  and  balls,  you  will  scarcely  feel  like  rising 
till  noon." 

"But  I  don't  mean  to  do  all  that,"  she  commenced, 
earnestly.  "  If  I  wished  it,  I  am  too  young,  and  father 
would  not  allow  it ;  but  I  do  not  wish  it.  I  should 
not  enjoy  such  gayeties.  I  like  to  hear  a  concert  now 
and  then,  and  go  into  such  company  as  you  and  father 
approve ;  but  I  should  not  enjoy  such  a  life  as  you 
mention  at  all.  I  am  in  earnest,  brother,"  she  added, 
warmly,  as  he  continued  to  gaze  in  her  animated  coun 
tenance.  "I  could  not  do  it;  for  I  do  not  approve  of 
such  dissipation." 

A  quick,  sharp  pang  shot  through  the  young  man's 
heart.  He  remembered  something  of  the  trial  his 
mother  had  endured  in  consequence  of  his  father's 
prejudice  against  religion.  "Must  this  tender  plant 
be  crushed  with  unkindness  ?  " 

"Why  do  you  gaze  at  me  so,  dear  Horace?"  she 
asked,  quickly  noticing  the  change  in  his  countenance. 
"  Have  I  said  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  Sit  here  by  me,  Juliette,  and  let  me  give  you  some 
advice,"  was  his  more  serious  remark.  "For  your 
sake,  I  do  wish  that  your  own  plan  could  be  carried 
out;  but  that  is  impossible.  Your  father  expects  a 


52  JULIETTE. 

great  triumph  for  his  only  daughter.  His  heart  is 
fully  set  on  it.  He  has  impatiently  waited  for  this 
time  ;  and  nothing  you  could  say  ;  no  influence  that  I 
could  bring  to  bear  upon  him  ;  —  and  you  know,  dear 
sister,  for  the  sake  of  my  mother  he  is  very  indulgent 
tome; — nothing  would  turn  him  from  his  purpose. 
He  will  be  very  loving  and  tender  of  you ;  he  will 
surround  you  with  luxuries.  You  can  scarce  name  a 
wish,  that  money  can  procure,  but  it  will  be  gratified; 
but  his  word  must  be  obeyed." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Horace,"  said  the 
young  girl,  growing  a  shade  paler.  "You  look  so 
very  sober,  you  terrify  me.  I  have  no  intention  of 
disobeying  my  father.  I  love  him  dearly, —  so  much 
so,  that  I  would  gladly  give  up  all  society,  and  pass 
every  evening  like  the  last.  But  that,  of  course,  I  do 
not  expect ;  neither  he  nor  you  would  —  " 

"  Tut,  tut ! "  he  exclaimed,  playfully  patting  her 
cheek.  "I  can  speak  for  myself  when  the  time 
comes ;  but  now,  as  you  don't  understand  me,  I  wish 
to  explain  more  fully.  You  say  you  don't  approve  of 
too  much  gayety ;  you  have  some  scruples  of  con 
science,  I  suppose?  " 

She  blushed  as  she  slightly  bowed  her  assent. 

"  Is  it  not  a  first  duty  to  obey  your  father  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  And  if  he  were  to  command  you  to  do  what  you 
think  to  be  wrong  ?  " 

Juliette's  breath  came  quickly.    Mrs.  Osborn's  words 


JULIETTE.  53 

flashed  upon  her  mind.  "  This  is  to  be  ray  trial,  then," 
she  thought. 

"  I  ought  to  obey  God  rather  than  man,"  was  the 
soft  and  whispered  response.  She  held  her  head  clown 
to  conceal  the  large  drops  which  stood  in  her  eyes; 
and  her  breast  heaved  with  emotion.  Horace  started 
from  her,  and  walked  to  the  window,  but  presently 
returned.  "Juliette,"  he  exclaimed,  in  an  impressive 
tone,  "I  wish  from  my  heart  I  knew  how  to  advise 
you.  I  love  and  respect  religion  for  my  mother's 
sake  ;  but  I  do  not  pretend  to  possess  it.  If  you  per 
sist  in  refusing  to  gratify  your  father's  wishes,  I  can  see 
nothing  but  unhappiness  before  you.  You  are  poorly 
fitted  to  encounter  a  will  like  his." 

"I  wish,  dear  brother,  you  knew  the  happiness  of 
loving  the  Saviour,"  she  responded,  gently.  "I  have 
depended  upon  you  so  much  to  help  me  to  be  firm ; 
but  God  has  promised  his  aid."  She  gave  him  her 
hand,  saying,  "Leave  me  a  few  minutes  now.  I  will 
join  you  soon  in  the  breakfast-room." 

Did  he  or  her  father  imagine  how  those  few  minutes 
were  passed?  Yes,  in  that  prayerless  house  there  was 
one  heart  offering  up  its  earnest  supplications  to  God 
for  help  to  prove  herself  worthy  to  be  his  child.  And 
the  answer  came  in  peace  to  her  own  soul. 

She  took  her  place  at  the  breakfast-table,  from 
which  Henry  generally  absented  himself,  with  so  bright 
and  joyous  a  countenance  that  Horace  was  surprised. 

When  the  meal  was  concluded,  her  father  led  her  to 
the  library,  where,  after  an  eager  survey  of  the  books 
6* 


54  JULIETTE. 

and  statuary,  she  playfully  put  her  arms  around  his 
neck.  She  had  already  seen  that  he  was  pleased  to 
have  her  demonstrative  in  her  affection. 

K  Shall  I  sing  for  you,  father?"  she  asked. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'd  sing  my  senses  all  away,  as  you 
did  last  night.  No,  dear,  we  have  important  business 
for  the  morning.  Eliza  tells  me  that  you  have  scarcely 
a  dress  fit  to  be  seen ;  so  I  shall  take  you  to  Madame 
Ellstaff  first.  After  this  you  must  learn  to  supply 
your  own  wardrobe.  You  have  only  to  come  to  me 
when  your  purse  is  empty.  I  have  purchased  a  small 
phaeton  for  your  use,  my  dear.  When  you  wish^  to 
ride,  Peter  will  drive  you." 

"  Oh,  father,  you  are  very  kind  !  I'm  afraid  your 
poor  little  girl  will  quite  lose  herself  amid  all  this 
splendor." 

"It  is  my  pleasure  to  see  you  happy,"  he  said,  ten 
derly.  "Only  be  obedient  to  my  wishes,  and  you 
shall  have  everything  your  heart  desires." 

Why  did  her  head  so  suddenly  droop,  and  the  color 
recede  from  her  face  ? 

"I  love  you  too  well  to  disobey  you,  father,"  she 
answered,  in  a  touching  tone  of  humility.  "But  you 
know  I  have  a  heavenly  Father,  too." 

Mr.  Fearing  frowned,  but  immediately  replied,  in  a 
tone  of  forced  gayety :  "  I  will  order  the  carriage  at 
once." 

In  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  conceal  it,  the  day  was 
a  weary  one  to  Juliette.  All  the  morning  was  passed 
in  deciding  upon  silks,  tissues,  and  crepe  de  lisse ; 


JULIETTE.  55 

then  home  to  lunch  ;  and  afterwards  out  again  with  a 
lady  of  fashion  to  select  hats,  —  dress  hats,  walking 
hats,  riding  hats,  etc.  The  poor  little  miss  began  to 
look  back  with  keen  regret  to  her  school-days,  when 
one  new  hat  at  a  time  was  deemed  quite  sufficient. 

At  dinner  she  saw  Horace  Tor  the  first  time  since 
the  morning.  Henry  had  sent  word  that  an  impera 
tive  engagement  would  prevent  his  dining  at  home. 
Juliette  looked  pale  and  tired,  though  she  tried  to  be 
merry.  There  were  one  or  two  guests ;  and  no  private 
conversation  was  practicable.  When  they  adjourned 
to  the  drawing-room,  the  young  girl  sang  a  few  tunes  ; 
but  it  was  plainly  with  an  effort ;  and  after  an  hour 
her  father  advised  her  to  retire. 

The  next  day  brought  invitations  for  a  ball  and 
party,  and  from  this  time  callers  and  engagements 
were  so  numerous,  there  seemed  not  a  moment  left  for 
reflection.  The  intelligence  that  Horace  expected  soon 
to  leave  the  country  saddened  Juliette's  heart,  for 
though  she  saw  comparatively  little  of  him,  and 
scarcely  ever  a  moment  alone ;  yet  her  heart  always 
turned  to  him  for  sympathy  and  advice.  Every  day 
her  father  seemed  more  fond  of  her,  and  more  grat 
ified  at  the  admiration  she  excited.  To  a  young  and 
ardent  mind,  there  was  indeed  something  intoxicating 
in  the  cup  of  flattery  so  suddenly  held  to  her  lips. 
Often,  as  she  entered  a  party  or  assembly,  dressed 
with  the  most  exquisite  taste,  leaning  on  her  father's 
arm,  a  buzz  of  admiration  met  her  ears, —  the  words, 
"  Oh,  isn't  she  charming,  divine  ?  "  bringing  a  richer 


56  JULIETTE. 

tint  to  her  cheek,  and  additional  brightness  to  her 
eyes.  Then  her  manner  was  so  easy  in  its  girlish 
simplicity  ;  there  was  such  an  earnest  frankness  and 
grace  in  her  conversation,  that  those  who  could  not 
be  attracted  by  mere  beauty  became  her  most  infatu 
ated  worshippers.  It  was  very  flattering  to  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  that  though  she  responded  warmly  to  kindness ; 
yet  his  daughter  plainly  preferred  his  attentions  to  any 
of  the  eager  applicants  for  her  favor.  Often,  while 
carrying  on  conversation  with  others,  his  heart  would 
swell  with  pride  as  he  watched  her  graceful  form  float 
ing  through  the  ballroom,  or  heard  the  full,  clear 
notes  of  her  sweet,  rich  voice  accompanying  the  piano. 

"I  knew  her  better  than  she  knew  herself,"  was  his 
pleased  thought,  as  he  met  her  eyes  lighted  with  ani 
mation,  and  heard  her  low,  musical  laugh. 

As  one  week  after  another  glided  swiftly  away,  one, 
two,  three  gentlemen  sought  her  hand  in  marriage ; 
but  she  answered,  "I  am  too  young." 

When  her  father's  consent  was  urged,  she  would 
shudder,  as  she  more  firmly  declined.  There  was  an 
unmistakable  air  of  dissipation  about  these  applicants 
for  her  affection,  which  disgusted  her  pure  heart.  They 
reminded  her  too  strongly  of  her  brother  Henry, 
whose  blurred  eyes,  blanched,  sallow  complexion, 
and  fetid  breath  often  caused  her  to  loathe  his 
caresses. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  I  shall  the  effect  of  this  good  lesson  keep 
As  watchman  to  my  heart." 

THE  conduct  of  Horace  caused  Juliette  no  small 
anxiety.  The  time  of  his  departure  was  post 
poned  "from  one  steamer  to  another;  but  though  she 
often  saw  him  in  company,  and  sometimes  met  his 
eyes  fastened  upon  her  with  a  reproachful  tenderness  ; 
yet  he  persiste'ntly  avoided  her  society.  When  they 
accidentally  were  alone  in  the  parlor  (he  never  sought 
her  boudoir  now),  his  manner  was  constrained  and 
cold. 

This  at  last  gave  her  so  much  pain,  that  one  day, 
meeting  him  on  the  stairs,  she  begged  him  to  accom 
pany  her  to  the  library. 

"I  will  gladly  do  so,"  he  answered,  with  more 
warmth  than  he  had  shown  for  weeks,  "for  I  have  a 
letter  which  came  in  an  envelope  to  me,  but  which  is 
addressed  to  you.  In  a  note  accompanying  it,  Mrs. 
Osborn  complains  that  you  have  never  answered  one 
of  her  letters." 

"I  have  never  received  one,"  exclaimed  Juliette, 
eagerly  tearing  open  the  welcome  epistle  ;  "  but  I  can 

67 


58  JULIETTE. 

read  it  by  and  by,"  she  added,  thrusting  it  into  her 
pocket,  and  turning  to  him  with  a  deep  blush.  "I 
have  wanted  a  long  time,  dear  brother,  to  ask  how  I 
have  offended  you?  Whatever  I  have  done,  I  am  sure 
you  would  forgive  me  if  you  knew  how  much  I  miss 
the  kind  care  and  interest  you  felt  for  me  when  I  was 
at  school." 

Her  manner  was  so  affectionate  that  Horace  started 
forward  as  if  about  to  speak  warmly,  but,  controlling 
himself,  replied,  in  almost  a  bitter  tone,  "Juliette,  the 
shy,  loving  sister,  and  Miss  Fearing,  the  beautiful 
heiress,  the  gay  belle  of  New  York,  are  two  totally 
unlike  characters.  Could  I  be  guilty  of  the  -folly  of 
supposing  that  among  the  throng  of  admirers  my 
brotherly  affection  could  be  missed?" 

"And  do  you  really  think  me  changed?"  she  asked, 
her  eyelashes  heavy  with  tears.  "Ah,  Horace,  you 
have  made  me  very  unhappy  !  " 

She  turned  away,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room  ; 
but  he  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  hand.  "Juli 
ette,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "will  you  answer  one  ques 
tion?" 

She  trembled,  but  replied,  "Certainly,  I  will." 

"  Are  you  happy  ?  I  mean,  do  you  enjoy  this  life 
of  incessant  gayety ;  this  whirlpool  of  excitement  ?  " 

Large,  pearly  drops  coursed  silently  down  her  face 
as  she  answered,  "  You  will  think  me  very  weak  and 
foolish,  I  know,  when  I  confess  that  sometimes  I  have 
been  pleased  at  the  attentions  I  have  received.  It  Avas 
so  unexpected  that  it  flattered  my  pride ;  but  the  pain 


JULIETTE.  59 

has  been  far  greater  than  the  pleasure."  She  held  out 
her  hand  ;  and  he  saw  that  it  was  thin  to  transparency. 
"  This  life  is  fast  wearing  me  out,"  she  said,  weeping. 
"This  struggle  between  the  fear  of  offending  father 
and  the  claims  of  conscience  is  terrible." 

The  young  man  pressed  her  thin  lingers  to  his  lips, 
while  his  breast  heaved  with  excitement.  "I  have  had 
a  struggle,  too,"  he  began;  "but  I  cannot  relate  it 
here  ;  "  and  he  glanced  around  the  spacious  apartment, 
as  if  he  loathed  the  sight  of  it.  "  Will  you  come  with 
me  to  mother's  grave  ?  " 

"Yes,  gladly." 

They  were  shortly  on  their  way  to  the  far-famed 
garden,  where  lie  the  sleeping  dead.  Seated  directly 
opposite  Juliette,  Horace  had  opportunity  to  observe 
how  very  pale  her  cheek  had  become,  and  how  attenu 
ated  her  form.  She  was  perusing  the  letter  of  Mrs. 
Osborn,  and  wept  bitterly  over  it. 

"  Strange  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  She  says  she  has 
never  received  a  letter  from  me  since  I  left;  and  I 
have  written  her  often,  though,  since  I  found  she  did 
not  answer,  not  so  frequently  as  before.  She  asks  the 
same  question  that  you  did,  Horace,  'Are  you  happy? 
Is  your  heart  at  rest?'  Dear  Mrs.  Osborn!  how  I 
wish  I  had  never  left  you!  Oh,  you  would  indeed 
pity,  while  you  blamed  me,  for  my  want  of  firmness, 
if  you  knew  all  I  have  suffered  ! " 

Bidding  Peter  await  them  at  the  entrance,  they  wan 
dered  away  to  a  retired  part  of  the  grounds,  where, 
for  the  first  time,  Juliette  saw  the  monument  erected 


60  JULIETTE. 

to  the  memory  of  her  step-mother.     Her  own  mother, 
too,  lay  there,  and  their  infant  brother  and  sister. 

When  she  had  gazed  upon  the  low  mounds  in  silence, 
Horace  drew  forth  one  of  the  rustic  seats,  and  opening 
another  beside  her,  he  took  a  small  Bible  from  his 
pocket.  "  Do  you  remember  this  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes  ;  I  gave  it  to  you,  long  ago." 

She  turned  to  the  fly-leaf,  and  read,  "To  my  very 
dear  brother,  Horace  Everett,  from  his  affectionate 
little  sister  Juliette." 

"How  well  I  remember  writing  that,"  she  said, 
glancing  in  his  face,  with  a  smile.  "Mrs.  Osborn 
ruled  it  for  me,  and  advised  me  to  put  in  my  whole 
name.  I  did  not  wish  to,  because  it  is  Fearing ;  and 
I  thought  it  would  not  look  well  that  a  brother's  and 
sister's  name  should  be  unlike.  She  explained  to  me 
then,  what  I  never  understood  before,  that  you  were 
not  my  own  brother;  but  I'm  sure,  Horace,  when  you 
are  like  yourself,  kind  and  good  as  to-day,  I  love  you 
far  better  than  I  do  Henry." 

"  I  have  thanked  God  many  times,"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  "that  you  were  not  my  own  sister;  but 
now,  dear  Juliette,  I  must  tell  my  tale.  Ever  since 
you  gave  me  this  little  book,  I  have  read  in  it  occa 
sionally.  My  mother  loved  the  Bible,  and  died  at 
peace  with  the  Saviour  it  reveals.  I  knew  the  time 
when  you,  too,  began  to  love  Christ ;  and  I  often  won 
dered  what  would  be  the  result  of  your  coming  to  live 
in  New  York.  My  heart  ached  for  you  the  morning 
you  so  earnestly  appealed  to  me ;  but  when  you  an- 


JULIETTE.  61 

swered  my  question  by  saying  so  firmly,  '  I  must  obey 
God  rather  than  man,'  I  was  sure  he  would  strengthen 
you  to  do  what  is  right.  I  acknowledged  the  power 
of  religion,  and  longed  for  a  personal  acquaintance 
with  it.  I  began  to  read  my  Bible  daily  ;  but  instead 
of  finding  peace,  my  soul  was  like  'the  troubled  sea, 
which  cannot  rest.'  I  withdrew  as  much  as  possible 
from  society,  and  deferred  from  time  to  time  my  de 
parture  for  Europe.  There  were  other  reasons,  too, 
why  I  could  not  tear  myself  away ;  but  I  will  not 
speak  of  them  now.  I  read  one  passage  after  another 
which  condemned  the  life  I  now  lead  :  '  Be  ye  not  con 
formed  to  this  world ;  but  be  ye  transformed  by  the 
renewing  of  your  minds.'  'Thou  shalt  not  follow  a 
multitude  to  do  evil.'  'Come  out  from  among  them 
and  be  separate,  and  I  will  receive  you,  and  will  be  a 
Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daugh 
ters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty  ! '  Shall  I  confess  it  to 
you,  dear  Juliette,  while  I  longed  to  break  away  from 
all  these  gayeties,  for  at  times  I  loathed  them  ;  yet  I 
had  not  strength  to  come  out  manful ly  and  declare 
myself  a  Christian?  I  dread  the  sneers  and  ridicule 
I  should  meet,  and,  more  than  all,  I  dread  father's 
displeasure." 

Juliette  sat  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  the 
tears  trickling  through  her  fingers.  How  clearly  he 
had  stated  the  struggles  of  her  own  heart ! 

"Forgive  me  if  I  pain  you  too  much,  Juliette,"  he 
added,  gently  touching  her  shoulder;  "but  I  have 
feared  for  you,  too.  I  am  sure  the  Bible  is  true.  "We 
6 


62  JULIETTE. 

are  either  for  Christ,  or  against  him.  We  cannot  serve 
two  masters.  By  mingling  in  these  gayeties,  and  pur 
suing  them  as  the  business  of  our  lives,  we  necessarily 
declare  that  we  approve  of  them.  I  met  you  among 
the  eager  throng  after  pleasure,  and  I  feared  you  had 
forgotten  your  sweet  hopes  of  heaven.  I  remembered 
that  I  advised  to  this  course,  and  this  added  a  keener 
pang  to  my  suffering." 

"  Dear  brother  !  "  said  the  weeping  girl ;  "  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  I  feel ;  but  I  have  had  more  real  pleasure 
in  this  short  interview  than  in  all  the  hours  of  the  past 
winter.  I  see  now  the  path  of  duty  plain  before  me. 
I  must  sooner  or  later  confess  my  love  to  Christ ;  and 
I  will  do  it  at  once.  Yes,  I  am  resolved.  I  love 
father,  and  will  yield  obedience  to  his  wishes  when 
ever  I  can  do  so  without  breaking  the  commands  of 
my  Saviour ;  and  you,  dear  Horace,  will  pray  for  me 
and  strengthen  me."  • 

"I  will  do  the  first  wherever  I  am;  but  I  much 
regret,  now,  that  I  have  engaged  my  passage  in  the 
next  steamer,  and  sh'all  sail  in  a  few  days." 

"  O  Horace  ! "  faltered  the  poor  girl. 

The  young  man  remained  for  a  moment  lost  in 
thought.  "My  uncle,  Cyrus  Everett,  with  his  family, 
are  going,"  he  said,  at  length;  "and  he  requested  as 
a  personal  favor  to  himself  that  I  would  accompany 
them.  This  I  was  the  more  glad  to  do,  as  my  aunt  is 
a  warm-hearted  Christian.  But,  Juliette,"  he  added, 
suddenly  observing  how  very  pale  she  had  become,  "I 
will  withdraw  my  consent  if  I  can  be  of  service  to 


JULIETTE.  63 

you.  My  uncle  will  not  insist  when  he  knows.  Say, 
Juliette,  shall  I  stay?" 

She  shook  her  head,  but  did  not  attempt  to  speak. 

He  clasped  her  hand,  and  found  it  cold.  "Yes, 
dear  Juliette,  on  many  accounts  I  wish  to  remain. 
Before  I  leave,  I  wish, — I  have  long  wished  to  say 
that  it  is  with  more  than  a  brother's  love — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  party  who  were  passing 
beyond  them  to  another  grave. 

"No,  Horace,"  responded  the  young  girl,  in  an  un 
steady  voice,  when  the  persons  were  out  of  hearing, 
"  you  must  not  delay  on  my  account.  I  have  been  led 
on  from  day  to  day,  in  the  hope  that  I  might,  —  that 
something  might  happen,  which  would  induce  father 
to  consent  that  I  should  follow  the  dictates  of  my  own 
conscience.  I  see  now  that  I  can  never  expect  the 
blessing  of  God  while  I  am  out  of  the  path  of  duty. 
I  must  give  up  all,  even  the  love  of  my  earthly  father, 
if  that  is  necessary,  rather  than  displease  my  heavenly 
Father.  I  must  remember  that  he  has  said,  'Whoso 
loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me,  is  not  worthy 
of  me.'  I  dread  it  more  than  I  can  express/'  she 
added,  looking  in  his  face  with  a  pensive  smile.  "I 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  his  displeasure.  'The 
spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak.'"  She 
sighed  heavily,  but  after  a  moment  looked  up  with  a 
bright  smile,  adding,  "  I  need  not  depend  on  my  own 
strength.  He  will  be  with  me,  and  he  has  said,  '  As 
thy  day  is,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'" 

"  I  wish  Mrs.  Osborn  could  be  with  you  while  I  am 


64  JULIETTE. 

away,"  exclaimed  Horace,  warmly.  "I  ain  more  than 
half  a  mind  to  give  up  travelling  at  all,  until"  —  he 
checked  himself,  —  "and  enter  on  my  profession  at 
once." 

His  eager,  impassioned  glance  caused  the  blushes  to 
burn  on  Juliette's  cheeks,  and,  rising  hastily,  she  said, 
"I  thank  you,  dear  brother,  more  than  I  can  express, 
for  bringing  me  here,  and  for  your  faithfulness  in  re 
minding  me  of  my  duty.  I  shall  feel  strengthened,  in 
endeavoring  to  do  right,  by  knowing  that  you  are 
struggling  in  the  same  path.  We  will  pray  for  each 
other,  and  you  will  write  me  often." 

She  turned  quickly  away,  to  conceal  the  drops  that 
glistened  in  her  eyes,  and  stood  a  moment  by  her 
mother's  grave.  "How  soon  we  shall  all  be  lying 
here  !  "  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"Yes,"  he  added,  "and  how  glorious  will  be  our 
rising  from  the  tomb,  if  we  earnestly  strive  after  holi 
ness  !  Only  this  morning  I  read  the  precious  words, 
'Blessed  are  they  that  are  persecuted  for  righteousness' 
sake,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'" 

Drawing  her  hand  within  his  arm,  they  walked  in 
silence  to  the  carriage,  where  Peter  was  impatiently 
awaiting  them.  As  they  approached  their  home,  Ju 
liette  said,  earnestly,  "I  cannot  attend  Mrs.  LeFcvre's 
ball  to-night." 

"I  have  already  declined,"  remarked  Horace. 

"I  might  in  truth  say  I  am  too  ill  to  go,"  she  re 
joined,  pressing  her  hand  to  her  head,  "for  indeed  I 
am  far  from  well ;  but  it  would  not  be  the  whole  truth. 


JULIETTE.  65 

The  trial  must  come  sooner  or  later."     She  stopped 
suddenly,  while  her  form  shook  with  emotion. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  young  man  restrained 
himself  from  folding  her  to  his  breast,  and  comfort 
ing  her  with  the  assurance  that  he  would  be  near  to 
strengthen  her  and  plead  her  cause.  How  often  dur 
ing  the  next  t\vo  years  did  he  regret  that  he  had  not 
done  so  ! 

"I  fear  you  are  ill,  too,"  she  said,  gazing  affection 
ately  in  his  pale  face,  and  trying  to  repress  a  sigh. 

"No,  I  am  perfectly  well ;  "  and  at  this  moment  the 
carriage  stopped  in  Madison  Square. 
6*. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Sighs  now  breath'd 
Unutterable,  which  the  spirit  of  prayer 
Inspir'd  and  wing'd  for  heaven  with  speedier  flight 
Than  loudest  oratory  "  — 

JULIETTE  proceeded  at  once  to  her  chamber,  de 
termined  to  seek  help  of  God,  and  then,  without 
delay,  impart  to  her  father  her  new  resolve.  But  be 
fore  she  reached  her  room,  Eliza  met  her  with  a  hasty 
note  from  him,  stating  that  he  had  been  suddenly  sum 
moned  to  H ,  as  his  mother  was  very  ill.  He 

begged  her  not  to  follow  him ;  he  would  return  for  her 
if  her  presence  was  necessary,  but  added,  "If  you 
wish  to  attend  the  ball  this  evening,  Horace  will 
doubtless  go  with  you,  in  company  with  one  of  your 
married  friends." 

This  short  note,  even  though  containing  sad  tidings, 
was  such  an  inexpressible  relief  to  the  poor  girl's  pent- 
up  feelings,  that  she  burst  into  tears. '  As  soon  as  she 
could  compose  herself,  she  ran  down  to  show  it  to 
Horace.  She  found  him  in  one  of  the  parlors,  gazing 
vacantly  into  the  back  court.  "  See,  brother !  "  she 
exclaimed,  "  is  it  wrong  to  feel  that  the  hand  of  God 
is  in  this  ?  " 

66 


v  JULIETTE.  67 

He  glanced  quickly  over  the  note,  then  earnestly 
regarding  her  expectant  countenance,  returned  it  with 
a  smile.  "  Grandmother  is  subject  to  these  attacks," 
he  said,  after  a  moment.  "I  think  there  is  no  occasion 
for  alarm  on  her  account." 

He  presently  relapsed  into  thought ;  but  when  Ju 
liette  returned,  after  having  given  her  bonnet  and 
shawl  to  Eliza,  he  roused  himself,  and  drawing  her 
toward  a  lounge,  seated  himself  by  her  side. 

"I  have  given  orders  that  no  callers  be  admitted," 
she  began.  "We  will  have  a  cosey  cup  of  tea  in  the 
library ;  and  then  I  will  sing  and  play  for  you,  as  I 
did  the  first  evening  after  I  came  home.  Dear  me, 
how  simple  and  ignorant  I  was  then  !  I  have  grown 
very  old  these  last  few  mouths.  Let  us  imagine  our 
selves  back  at  dear  Mrs.  Osborn's,  and  that  the  girls 
have  left  us  in  the  parlor,  for  a  good  long  chat,  as  they 
used  to  do.  Oh,  how  often  the  past  winter  I  have 
longed  for  those  delightful  old  times  !  " 

Horace  laughed,  but  it  was  plainly  forced,  and  at 
last  he  said,  "It's  no  use  trying  to  conceal  it,  Juliette, 
I  am  half  distracted  between  my  desire  to  stay  till  this 
in  regard  to  you  is  decided,  and  my  promise  to  accom 
pany  my  uncle  abroad.  Even  the  anticipation  of  a 
quiet  evening  with  you  will  not  turn  rny  thoughts  from 
this  unpleasant  subject." 

"I  will  decide  for  you,  then,"  she  answered,  speak 
ing  with  animation.  "You  shall  state  all  the  reasons, 
pro  and  con,  and  then  I'll  decide." 

"No,  for  I  cannot;  at  least,  I  ought  not  to,    state 


68  JULIETTE. 

all  my  reasons."  Horace  avoided  her  eye,  and  looked 
greatly  embarrassed.  "I  ought  not  to  tell  you  at 
present." 

"There  are  two  reasons  in  favor  of  your  going  at 
once,"  resumed  Juliette,  innocently,  little  dreaming 
of  the  tumult  in  his  breast.  "It  will.be  so  much 
plcasanter  for  you  to  have  agreeable  company  ;  and  the 
second  is  — " 

"Well,  what  is  the  second?"  as  she  hesitated  and 
blushed. 

"Why,  of  course,  the  sooner  you  go,  the  sooner 
you'll  return.  Isn't  that  a  good  reason?" 

"  The  very  best  you  could  have  named.  And  you 
will  promise  to  welcome  the  wanderer  back?"  he 
added,  earnestly. 

"  Certainly  I  will.  Why,  only  think,  when  you  are 
away  I  shall  have  nobody  to  —  to  take  your  place." 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  be  absent  but  a  few  months, 
and  then"  — 

He  rose  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"And  by  that  time,"  rejoined  Juliette,  "I  hope  I 
shall  have  convinced  dear  father  that  it  is  more  for  his 
interest  to  allow  me  to  be  a  good,  dutiful  daughter  in 
the  way  my  conscience  approves.  I  wonder  some 
times,  when  he  sees  the  effect  of  such  dissipation  on 
Henry,  that  he  does  not  fear  it  for  me." 

"Poor  Henry  !  "  repeated  Horace,  "how  changed  he 

is  !     Naturally  amiable,  generous,  and  yielding,  he  has 

heretofore  been  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.    Now 

.  I  fear  the  worst,  from  the  degraded  company  he  seeks." 


JULIETTE.  G9 

This  was  a  painful  thought  for  both  of  them,  and 
they  turned  from  it.  Juliette  brought  her  portfolio, 
and  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Mrss  Osborn,  from  which  I 
make  the  following  extract :  — 

"  You  say  truly,  my  dear  teacher,  that  no  one  can 
expect  or  claim  the  blessing  of  Heaven  while  engaged 
in  the  mere  pursuit  of  pleasure.  Certainly  I  feel  this 
in  my  own  case.  Probably  no  one  has  ever  enjoyed  a 
more  favorable  opportunity  to  test  the  pleasures  of 
fashionable  life,  or  been  more  engaged  in  a  ceaseless 
chase  after  gayety,  than  I,  during  the  last  few  months. 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  them  unsatisfying. 
Yes,  I  have  found,  by  my  own  bitter  experience,  that 
I  cannot  attend  balls  and  gay  assemblies,  that  I  cannot 
hasten  night  after  night  from  the  theatre  or  the  opera, 
and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  that  sweet  peace  and  trust 
in  my  heavenly  Father  which  has  been  my  portion  in 
former  times.  Indeed,  this  round  of  excitement  and 
fashion  indisposes  me  for  serious  reading  and  prayer. 
I  have  often  thought  of  your  last  words ;  but  little  did 
I  dream  how  difficult  it  would  be  for  me  to  follow 
your  advice.  I  seem  only  now,  within  a  few  hours, 
to  have  awaked  to  the  dreadful  dangers  I  have  in 
curred,  but  am  resolved,  with  the  help  of  God,  to 
take  a  stand  for  him.  I  am  sure,  dear  teacher,  I  shall 
have  your  prayers  that,  however  much  tempted,  I  may 
be  faithful  to  the  end." 

This  letter  she  gave  to  her  brother  to  post  for  her. 
Then  the  dinner-bell  rang,  at  which  meal  Henry  was 
present,  and  was  told  of  his  grandmother's  illness. 


70  JULIETTE. 

He  was  greatly  vexed  that  his  father  happened  to 
be  away  just  when  he  wanted  a  fresh  supply  of  cash. 
His  sister  eagerly  told  him  s  she  had  just  received  a 
large  sum  from  her  father,  which  was  at  his  service  ; 
but  he  only  laughed.  "  If  you  have  two  thousand  dol 
lars,  I  will  take  it,  and  thank  you,"  said  he,  presently. 
"Somehow  I  must  get  that  sum  to-night." 

Juliette  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  but 
noticed  immediately  that  Horace  was  looking  very 
grave. 

"I'll  be  bound,"  said  Henry,  unmindful  of  the  pres 
ence  of  the  servants,  "I'd  give  all  I'm  worth,  which,  to 
be  sure,  is  precious  little  at  this  minute,  if  I  could 
keep  out  of  these  cursed  scrapes,  as  you  do,  Horace. 
Why,  I  don't  believe  you  spend  a  quarter  part  of  your 
income." 

"Perhaps  not.  I  value  my  property  too  much  to 
throw  it  away  upon  notorious  blacklegs." 

"Don't,  Horace  !"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  glanc 
ing  in  confusion  at  his  sister.  "You  shock  the  poor 
little  girl.  Well,  I'm  in  for  two  thousand,  and  you 
know  debts  of  honor  must  be  paid." 

"If  you  were  really  in  trouble,  Henry,  you  know  I 
would  divide  my  last  dollar  with  you  ;  but  I  never  will 
give  my  money  to  sharpers.  I  dare  not  do  it,  for  it 
would  not  be  right." 

The  young  man  drank  glass  after  glass  of  wine, 
until  Horace  glanced  at  his  sister  to  intimate  that  she 
had  better  rise  from  the  table. 

They  returned  to  the  parlor,  when   Henry  threw 


JULIETTE.  71 

himself  on  the  sofa,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

Juliette's  heart  bled  for  him.  Oh,  how  earnestly 
her  soul  ascended  in  prayer  to  God  that  he  might  see 
the  error  of  his  ways,  and  turn  before  it  was  too  late  ! 

At  length  he  started  up,  saying,  "There  is  no  help 

for  it.     I  must  go  to  H ,"  and  he  hastily  left  the 

house. 

In  the  winter  months  there  was  always  a  bright  fire 
in  the  library,  and  here  Juliette  and  Horace  repaired. 
He  led  her  to  the  piano,  and,  turning  aside  the  sheets 
containing  operas,  waltzes,  and  marches,  she  selected 
some  simple  melodies,  which  she  had  sung  in  child 
hood.  Then  they  drew  their  chairs  in  front  of  the 
glowing  coals,  and  talked  long  and  earnestly  of  the 
subject  dearest  to  their  hearts.  They  spoke  of  his 
mother  ;  and  Horace  called  to  his  sister's  mind  the  in 
structions  she  had  given  them.  They  strengthened 
each  other  in  the  resolution-  to  maintain  a  consistent 
Christian  character,  even  though  persecution  should 
follow  ;  and  then  Juliette  made  known  her  strong  de 
sire  to  obey  her  Saviour's  last  command,  and  to  com 
memorate  his  dying  -love. 

"I  fear,"  said  Horace,  gravely,  "if  you  make  a 
profession  of  religion  at  present,  you  will  have  to  do 
it  in  direct  opposition  to  your  fathers  commands.  In 
this  case  I  cannot  advise  you ;  your  own  heart  must 
judge." 

The^  next  morning,  Mr.  Fearing  wrote  that  his 
mother  was  convalescent,  but  wished  him  to  remain 


72  JULIETTE. 

another  day.  Ho  added,  that  he  would  be  in  New 
York  in  time  to  accompany  his  daughter  to  the  theatre 
on  the  following  evening,  when  a  celebrated  actor  was 
to  appear  for  the  last  time. 

The  color  faded  from  Juliette's  cheeks  and  lips. 
"This  will  be  my  hour  of  trial,"  was  her  silent  ejacu 
lation. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Horace  received  a  letter 
from  his  uncle,  begging  him  to  execute  some  commis 
sions  with  reference  to  their  anticipated  voyage.  The 
Baltic  was  to  sail  the  next  day.  The  young  man  was, 
therefore,  very  busy  in  his  preparations ;  and  his  sis 
ter,  though  with  a  sad  weight  on  her  heart,  determined 
not  to  add  to  his  cares  by  repeating  her  own.  As  ho 
had  for  some  time  been  expecting  to  leave  the  country, 

he  had  lately  been  to  H to  bid  his  friends  adieu, 

and  now  he  only  regretted  leaving  without  seeing  his 
father  once  more.  As  the  vessel  was  often  delayed 
for  several  hours,  there  was  still  hope  that  he  would 
arrive  in  time. 

The  last  evening  at  home  was  a  sad  one,  though, 
could  they  have  foreseen  the  events  which  would  hap 
pen  before  they  met  -again,  it  would  have  been  far 
more  so.  Horace  promised  to  keep  a  journal  of  all 
that  would  interest  his  sister,  and  copy  it  to  send  her, 
while  she  assured  him  that  much  of  her  pleasure  would 
consist  in  answering  his  letters. 

"And  if  anything  unpleasant  should  occur,"  he  ex 
claimed,  warmly  grasping  her  hand, —  "I  do  not  an 
ticipate  it,  or  I  would  not  leave  you, -r- but  should 


JULIETTE.  73 

trouble  or  adversity  coine  upon  you,  remember  that  I 
have  an  ample  fortune,  independent  of  father,  and 
that  it  is  my  wish  to  share  it  with  you." 

"Thank  you,  dear  brother,"  she  responded,  with  a 
sad  smile;  "but  in  that  case,  I  trust  I  should  need 
nothing  long." 

He  rose,  saying,  "You  look  weary,  and  I  must  be 
up  with  the  sun,  so  we  had  better  retire  early." 

But  Juliette  hesitated  before  she  bade  him  good-night. 
There  was  one  request  she  wished  to  make,  but  could 
scarcely  gather  courage  to  do  so.  "Horace,"  she 
began,  "you  have  promised  to  pray  for  me;  will  you 
pray  with  me  once  before  you  go?" 

The  color  flew  to  his  face,  and  then  receded,  leaving 
him  very  pale.  He  walked  across  the  library  and  back 
to  where  she  stood.  "I  cannot  refuse,"  he  answered 
at  length.  "  But,  Juliette,  I  am  just  entering  the 
narrow  path,  and  the  forms  of  prayer  are  new  to  me." 

"  We  used  to  kneel,  and  say  f  Our  Father'  together," 
she  answered,  gazing  affectionately  in  his  face. 

He  led  her  to  the  sofa,  "Our  Father  pities  our  weak 
ness,"  he  said,  softly.  They  knelt  side  by  side,  while 
he,  in  a  humble,  childlike  manner,  confessed  their  sins, 
and  besought  pardon  and  peace  through  a  crucified 
Saviour.  Every  moment  his  soul  warmed  with  in 
creasing  fervor,  until  his  weeping  companion  was 
borne  on  the  wings  of  faith  to  the  mercy-seat,  the 
great  white  throne,  and  the  presence  of  the  Eternal. 

"  O  my  brother ! "  she  cried,  her  countenance 
beaming  with  a  heavenly  light,  "what  joys  can  be 

7 


74  JULIETTE. 

compared  to  these?  Oh,  pray  often  for  me,  while  we 
are  separated !  God  has  sent  an  answer  already,  in 
filling  my  soul  with  peace." 

At  an  early  hour  the  following  day,  the  young  man, 
having  sought  Henry  in  his  room,  and  wTith  difficulty 
aroused  him  sufficiently  to  bid  him  farewell,  ap 
proached  Juliette's  boudoir  for  a  similar  purpose. 

"  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  be  on  board,"  he  said; 
"  but  in  all  probability  the  vessel  will  not  sail  until 
afternoon,  so  that,  in  case  father  arrives,  I  hope  he  will 
drive  instantly  to  the  wharf."  He  then  held  her  for 
one  moment  to  his  heart,  and  with  a  fervent  "  God 
bless  you,  my  own  dear  Juliette,  and  keep  you  in  ail 
your  ways,"  he  hurried  down  the  stairs  to  hide  the 
emotion  he  could  not  suppress. 

When  he  wras  gone,  the  poor  girl  no  longer  tried  to 
keep  back  her  tears,  and  wept  so  long  and  bitterly 
that  she  brought  on  a  severe  headache,  and  at  last  was 
obliged  to  return  to  her  couch.  Toward  noon  the 
voice  of  her  father  aroused  her,  and  she  tried  to  rise 
to  meet  him,  but  fell  back,  faint  and  trembling,  upon 
the  pillow.  She  heard  Eliza  telling  him  that  she  was 
ill,  and  rang  her  bell  hastily,  to  say  she  wished  to  see 
him. 

"  Horace  has  gone ! "  she  exclaimed,  pressing  her 
hands  to  her  throbbing  temples.  "He  wants  you  to 
drive  directly  to  the  wharf.  If  you  go  at  once,  I 
think  you  will  see  him.  He  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  leaving  the  country  without  bidding  you 
farewell." 


JULIETTE.  75 

^Vaiting  only  long  enough  to  bid  her  summon  their 
family  ph}:sician,  unless  she  were  soon  relieved,  he 
hastened  away,  saying  that  he  should  probably  go  out 
into  the  channel  with  the  vessel,  and  return  in  the 
pilot's  boat. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

11  He  withers  at  his  heart,  and  looks  as  wan 
As  the  pale  spectre  of  a  murdered  man." 

IN"  the  mean  time,  Juliette  lay  upon  her  couch,  en 
deavoring  to  fortify  her  mind  for  the  trial  before 
her.  She  had  not  lived  four  months  with  her  father 
without  learning  something  of  his  bitter  prejudices 
against  those  who  professed  to  be  governed  by  the  law 
of  Christ.  She  had  heard  from  Horace  something  of 
the  trial  his  mother  had  endured  in  consequence  of  it ; 
and  she  could  not  suppose  that  he  would  be  more  leni 
ent  with  her. 

Mr.  Fearing  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  man  of  gener 
ous,  noble  impulses,  but  extremely  passionate,  and 
with  an  iron  will.  His  daughter  hoped  that  at  this 
time  his  heart  would  be  softened  by  the  recent  illness 
of  his  mother,  and  also  by  the  parting  from  one  whom 
he  loved  as  an  own  son.  She  prayed- that  he,  "in 
whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of  all  men,"  would  turn 
his  heart  toward  her,  so  that  he  would  allow  her  to 
serve  God  according  to  the  dictates  of  her  own  con 
science. 

Hour  after  hour  wore  away,  and  still  he  did  not  re 
turn.  The  dinner-bell  rang ;  but  no  one  appeared  in 

76 


JULIETTE.  77 

answer  to  its  summons.  The  terrible  excitement  was 
wearing  upon  poor  Juliette.  In  vain  she  tried  to  still 
her  wildly-beating  heart,  or  by  powerful  opiates  obtain 
the  repose  she  so  much  needed.  Her  temples  beat 
and  throbbed,  her  lips  grew  dry  and  parched,  while 
her  eyeballs  burned  like  fire.  For  some  weeks  she 
had  acknowledged  to  herself  an  increasing  lassitude  ; 
but  since  the  day  she  visited  the  cemetery  it  had  re 
quired  constant  exertion  to  appear  as  usual. 

At  last  she  was  compelled  to  allow  Eliza  to  send  for 

Doctor  M .  She  found  difficulty  in  connecting  her 

thoughts,  and  feared  she  were  about  to  die,  without 
having  confessed  herself  to  be  Christ's. 

At  length  the  doctor  came,  and  in  a  few  moments 
her  father  followed  him  into  her  room. 

The  noise  roused  her  from  an  unrefreshing  nap,  and 
for  an  instant  she  was  confused,  and  did  not  recognize 
them,  but  soon  began  to  talk  incoherently  of  Horace, 
and  "the  great  work  I  have  to  do." 

Mr.  Fearing  bent  over  her  in  agony.  For  two  days 
he  had  been  suffering  keenly  in  consequence  of  a 
stormy  interview  with  Henry ;  and  now  was  this  dear 
child,  who  had  so  warmly  returned  his  affection,  to  be 
taken  from  him? 

Juliette  gazed  earnestly  in  his  face,  and  then  sud- 
nenly  clasped  her  arms  around  his  neck.  "  O  father, 
do  let  me  love  you  !  If  you  do  not,  it  will  break  my 
heart.  I  will  be  a  good  daughter ;  I  will  do  all  you 
wish.  Father,  father,  I  will  be  your  nurse,  your  com 
panion,  and  never,  never  leave  you." 

7* 


78  JULIETTE. 

"This  is  terrible  !  "  exclaimed  the  poor  man,  starting 
from  the  bed. 

"  There  is  a  high  state  of  mental  excitement,"  re 
marked  the  physician,  in  a  low  tone.  "I  shall  be 
obliged  to  adopt  powerful  measures  to  prevent  con 
gestion  of  the  brain." 

"I  know  of  no  cause  to  produce  excitement,"  re 
turned  Mr.  Fearing,  hoarsely,  "  unless  it  be  that  her 
brother  has  to-day  sailed  for  Europe." 

"Father!  father!"  again  screamed  Juliette,  en 
deavoring  to  spring  from  the  bed,  "for  my  mother's 
sake,  don't  say  so  !  Do  love  your  poor  girl !  " 

"My  dearest  child,"  cried  Mr.  Fearing,  soothingly, 
"you  are  all  the  world  to  me.  For  your  own  sake, 
my  darling  child,  I  will  love  you.  Oh,  why  do  you 
utter  such  heart-rending  words  !  " 

His  voice  seemed  to  recall  her  to  herself,  for  she 
drew  his  face  down  to  hers  for  a  kiss.  "I  do  love 
you,  dear  father,"  she  said,  softly.  "When  I  am  gone 
I  want  you  to  remember  that  I  did." 

"But  you  shall  not  die!"  he  exclaimed,  starting 
from  her  almost  fiercely.  "  I  cannot  give  you  up." 

Doctor  M took  him  by  the  hand,  and  firmly  led 

him  from  the  room,  saying,  "  I  will  not  be  answerable 
for  the  consequences,  if  you  remain.  She  must  be 
kept  perfectly  quiet,  and  have  the  most  careful  atten 
tion,  in  order  to  save  her  life.  I  wish  it  were  an  hour 
earlier,  that  the  street  might  be  covered  with  tan.  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  apply  ice  to  the  head,  and  then 


JULIETTE.  79 

shall  leave  only  long  enough  to  find  an  experienced 
nurse  to  remain  with  her." 

Mr.  Fearing  caught  his  hat,  and  hastily  left  the 
house.  An  hour  later,  when  the  physician  returned, 
bringing  with  him  a  nurse  on  whom  he  could  rely  to 
carry  out  his  directions,  he  found  laborers  commenc 
ing  their  work  upon  the  street.  "  Money  is  all-power 
ful,"  was  his  quiet  remark  to  his  companion. 

"Except  to  purchase  life,"  was  her  terse  reply. 

Within  the  elegant  mansion,  the  servants  were  run 
ning  to  and  fro,  eager  to  learn  what  hope  could  be  en 
tertained  for  their  dear  young  mistress ;  for  Juliette, 
by  her  kind  consideration  for  their  comfort,  her  sweet, 
unassuming  exercise  of  authority,  had  endeared  her 
self  to  every  one  of  the  household. 

The  almost  distracted  father  alternately  locked  him 
self  in  the  library,  struggling  to  resist  the  decree  of 
the  Almighty,  which  he  feared  had  gone  forth  against 
him  ;  and  then,  unable  longer  to  endure  the  suspense, 
rushing  to  the  door  of  her  chamber,  where  his  heart 
was  torn  by  her  incoherent  cries,  —  "O  my  father! 
my  dear  father  !  " 

Coming  out  of  the  chamber,  after  repeated  attempts 
to  soothe  her,  the  physician  found  Mr.  Fearing  stand 
ing  near  the  door,  his  hands  pressed  wildly  upon  his 

head.  Dr.  M led  him,  passive  as  a  child,  to  the 

libraiy.  "What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked,  abruptly, 
"this  constant,  heart-rending  cry  for  your  affection? 
'  Father,  don't  turn  me  away.  Father,  do  let  me  love 
you,  and  be  a  good  daughter  to  you  ! ' " 


80  JULIETTE. 

w  They  are  the  ravings  of  insanity  ! "  cried  the  ex 
cited  father.  "  From  the  hour  she  came  home,  more 
than  four  months  since,  she  has  never  known  a  wish 
ungratified.  She  has  repeatedly  assured  me  that  I 
should  spoil  her  with  indulgence." 

"You  said  you  knew  no  cause  of  excitement,  unless 
it  were  the  departure  of  Mr.  Everett.  Am  I  to  un 
derstand  that  there  is  a  mutual  affection  between 
them?" 

Mr.  Fearing  started,  and  fixed  his  keen,  penetrating 
eyes  on  the  doctor's  face.  One  reminiscence  after  an 
other  flashed  through  his  mind,  to  prove  that  it  might 
be  so ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  their  intimacy  from 
childhood,  their  language  toward  each  other  as  brother 
and  sister,  had  heretofore  prevented  the  idea  from  once 
entering  his  heart. 

"It  may  be  so,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  in  an  abstracted 
manner ;  "  yet  the  thought  never  occurred  to  me.  But 
why  did  not  Horace  ask  my  consent  ?  As  there  is  no 
blood  relation,  I  would  choose  him  for  a  son  before 
any  other.  Yet,  if  such  were  the  fact,  he  would 
scarcely  have  left  her.  It  is  all  dark  and  mysterious." 

The  physician  sat  down  and  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hand.  "I  ought  not  to  conceal  from  you,"  he  began, 
after  a  brief  pause,  "  that  your  daughter  is  in  immi 
nent  danger.  The  cause,  whatever  it  may  be,  has 
been  for  some  time  affecting  her  system.  As  soon  as 
the  fever  leaves  her,  she  may  sink  from  utter  prostra 
tion.  I  see  that  her  form  is  exceedingly  thin  and  frail. 


JULIETTE.  81 

The  danger  is  that  there  is  not  enough  vitality  to  with 
stand  the  shock  of  such  an  attack." 

Mr.  Fearing  stood  gazing  earnestly  at  the  counte 
nance  of  the  speaker,  the  muscles  of  his  face  working 
convulsively  to  conceal  the  effect  these  words  were 
producing ;  then  with  a  deep  groan  he  turned  to  the 
other  end  of  the  apartment. 

Dr.  M rose  to  return  to  the  chamber.  "As 

early  as  possible,"  he  said,  "I  shall  call  in  Dr.  I 

aud  Dr.  P ,  as  consulting  physicians.  It  is  not 

my  way  to  deceive  friends  by  concealing  the  real  dan 
ger  of  the  sufferer ;  but  be  assured,  no  means  shall  be 
spared  to  save  the  life  of  your  child." 

The  poor  father  wrung  his  hands  in  silence.  He 
followed  the  doctor  to  the  door  of  the  sick-room, 
where  the  patient,  exhausted  by  her  loud  screams,  and 
partly  under  the  influence  of  narcotics,  only  muttered 
to  herself  at  intervals ;  —  the  names  of  "  father,  dear 
father,"  and  "  Horace,"  being  alternately  upon  her 

lips.  As  her  eyes  remained  closed,  Dr.  M ,  in. 

reply  to  the  agonizing  gaze  of  the  father,  led  him  to 
the  couch.  Juliette's  beautiful  tresses  had  been  cut 
within  an  inch  or  two  of  her  head.  In  their  stead,  a 
bag  containing  pieces  of  ice  was  held  in  its  place  by 
Eliza,  while  the  nurse  moved  here  and  there  in  accord 
ance  with  the  directions  of  the  physician. 

Eliza's  face  was  very  pale,  and  she  with  difficulty 
restrained  her  tears  at  the  oft-repeated  words,  uttered 
in.  a  low  and  mournfully  earnest  tone,  "Father,  I  will, 


82  JULIETTE. 

only  let  me  love  you.  Horace,  you  promised,  wher 
ever  you  were,  to  remember  your  poor  sister." 

He  could  endure  no  more,  but  darted  from  the 
room,  just  as  Henry,  with  a  loud  bang,  which  brought 
a  scream  from  the  poor  sufferer,  entered  the  outer 
door. 

For  two  days  Mr.  Fearing  had  not  seen  his  son,  and 
then,  after  giving  him  a  check  for  two  thousand  dol 
lars,  parted  from  him  in  terrible  anger.  Now,  the 
youth,  more  than  half  intoxicated,  was  effectually 
roused  by  seeing  the  house,  usually  at  this  hour  so 
quiet,  in  a  blaze  of  light,  while  persons  were  hasten 
ing  up  and  down  the  lofty  flights  of  stairs. 

Darting  hastily  forward,  Mr.  Fearing  arrested  his 
son's  steps  as  they  were  on  the  staircase,  and  led  him 
unresisting  to  the  library. 

"Am  I  awake?"  exclaimed  Henry,  in  a  confused 
manner,  rubbing  his  head. 

A  look  of  contempt  passed  over  the  father's  face  as 
he  gazed  upon  his  son. 

"It  is  time  you  were  awake,"  he  began,  in  a  hoarse, 
constrained  voice,  "for  when  to-morrow's  sun  rises, 
your  only  sister  may  be  sleeping  her  last  long  sleep." 

Henry  started,  and  fell  back  upon  the  sofa,  express 
ing  his  surprise  by  an  oath. 

Mr.  Fearing  was  only  restrained  from  a  torrent  of 
abuse  at  his  ill-timed  words  by  the  expression  of  real 
distress  upon  his  son's  blanched  countenance. 

"Go  to  bed,  sir,"  he  said,  sternly;  "you  are  dead 
to  all  sense  of  decency." 


JULIETTE.  83 

"Can't  I  see  her?"  faltered  the  young  man,  rising 
and  approaching  his  father.  "  Oh,  can't  I  see  her  once 
more  ?  " 

Mr.  Fearing  waved  him  off.  This  question,  —  oh, 
what  a  dagger  to  his  heart !  "  See  her  once  more." 
Alas  !  how  little,  after  all,  he  had  realized  that  soon  ho 
might  be  called  to  part  with  her  forever. 

Henry  left  the  room  unnoticed,  and  stole  softly  up 
the  stairs.  The  chamber-girl  was  just  carrying  in  a 
fresh  supply  of  ice,  and  he,  trembling  in  every  limb, 
followed  her.  Juliette  had  fallen  into  a  troubled 
sleep,  and  her  attendants,  scarcely  daring  to  draw  a 
breath,  stood  around  her.  Dr.  M ,  who  was  re 
clining  on  a  lounge  in  the  apartment,  put  his  fingers 
on  his  lips  as  a  caution  to  Henry,  who  arrested  his 
steps  without  daring  to  approach  the  bed. 

Oh,  what  thoughts  of  death  and  of  the  eternity  that 
would  follow,  rushed  into  his  mind  as  he  stood  gazing 
on  the  pallid  countenance  before  him !  How  her 
whispered  remonstrances  respecting  the  course  he  was 
pursuing,  pierced  him  like  a  dagger,  as  he  realized 
that  he  might  never  again  hear  her  voice  !  "  Dear 
brother,"  she  had  said,  one  day,  when,  after  a  fit  of 
intoxication,  he  was  cursing  himself  and  his  boon  com 
panions,  "Dear  brother,  our  mother  taught  us  there 
is  a  world  beyond  this." 

How  quickly  that  beautiful  countenance  had  been 
changed  !  Those  rich,  brown  locks,  of  whose  beauty 
he  had  boasted  over  the  wine-cup,  where  were  they? 
Those  lustrous  eyes,  which  ever  beamed  upon  him 


84  JULIETTE. 

with  sisterly  affection,  closed,  perhaps  forever  !  That 
form,  graceful  in  its  symmetrical  proportions,  must 
that  be  laid  in  the  grave  for  worms  to  feast  upon? 
Horrid  thoughts  !  How  could  he  endure  them?  All 
that  was  good  and  tender  in  the  brother's  heart  was 
aroused  by  the  sight  before  him.  He  turned  silently 
and  left  the  apartment.  Again  he  sought  the  library ; 
for  in  his  distress  he  must  have  sympathy.  The  door 
was  locked ;  but  on  hearing  the  handle  turn,  Mr.  Fear 
ing  quickly  opened  it.  His  face  was  haggard,  while 
his  large,  piercing  eyes  seemed  to  protrude  from  their 
sockets. 

Henry  burst  into  tears.     "Is  there  no  hope?"  he 
asked.     "  Can  nothing  be  done  ?  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  A  beam  of  comfort,  like  the  moon  through  clouds, 
Gilds  the  black  horror,  and  doth  soothe  his  heart." 

THE  consulting  physicians  approved  the  course 
pursued  by  Dr.  M ,  and  recommended  a 

continuance  of  the  same  powerful  measures.  They 
agreed  in  supposing  this  not  to  be  so  sudden  an  attack 
as  it  at  first  appeared ;  but  that  the  patient  had  for 
some  time  been  laboring  under  unnatural  excitement. 
From  Eliza,  Dr.  M learned  that  her  young  mis 
tress  was  often  found  in  tears  in  her  own  apartment ; 
and,  also,  that  since  the  morning  her  father  left  for 

H ,  when  she  visited  the  cemetery  with  Mr. 

Everett,  she  had  complained  of  not  being  well. 

That  some  of  her  distress  was  connected  with  Hor 
ace,  they  could  not  doubt ;  but  what  could  be  the 
cause  of  this  distress,  her  father  could  not  even  sus 
pect. 

In  his  severe  self-conflicts,  Mr.  Fearing  did  indeed 
blame  himself  that  he  had  been  so.  blind,  and  keenly 
regretted  that  he  had  so  often  imposed  his  confidence 
upon  the  young  man  in  regard  to  his  wishes  for  his 


daughter. 


85 


86  JULIETTE. 

lie  now  recollected,  what  had  never  struck  him 
before,  that  Horace  was  always  silent  at  these  confi 
dential  interviews,  or  had  merely  said,  he  had  no 
doubt  his  sister's  pure  heart  would  guide  her  aright ; 
that  nothing  would  pain  him  more  than  to  see  her 
united  for  life  to  a  man  whose  character  was  not  above 
reproach,  even  though  his  fortune  and  rank  were 
princely. 

It  certainly  would  not  be  true  to  say  that  Mr.  Fear- 
ing's  mind  did  not  revert  with  the  most  painful  solici 
tude  to  the  remark  of  Mrs.  Osborn  when  they  were 
parting,  "Not  until  you  allow  your  daughter  the  free  ex 
ercise  of  her  dearest  hopes  and  wishes,  will  she  be  truly 
happy."  This,  connected  with  the  unwelcome  state 
ment  that  she  was  a  humble  Christian,  caused  a  tumult 
of  emotion  in  the  father's  heart.  He  began  to  suspect 
that  after  all  this  might  be  the  cause  of  her  sickness, 
— that  secret  conflicts  had  undermined  her  constitution 
and  prepared  the  way  for  the  awful  catastrophe  he 
now  dreaded.  "And  all  this  time,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  she  has  given  up  her  own  desires,  and  tried  to  find 
pleasure  in  acting  according  to  my  wishes." 

In  the  near  thought  of  death  the  vanities  of  the 
world  faded  before  him  like  the  morning  mist.  Pie 
almost  persuaded  himself  that  could  he  have  her  re 
stored  to  health  and  strength,  he  would  allow  her  "the 
free  exercise  of  her  dearest  hopes." 

Strange  to  say,  that  even  at  this  moment  the  im 
pressions  of  his  childhood  were  so  strong  upon  him 
(for  he  had  always  heard  his  father  ridicule  the  dis- 


JULIETTE.  87 

ciples  of  Christ) ,  and  so  wholly  ignorant  was  he  of  the 
claims  of  religion,  or  the  joys  of  a  true  believer,  that 
the  thought  of  his  lovely  daughter,  heiress  of  his  im 
mense  fortune,  desiring  nothing  more  than  meekly  to 
follow  her  Saviour,  was  to  him  exceedingly  bitter  and 
humiliating.  In  his  inmost  soul  he  denounced  Mrs. 
Osborn  as  a  scheming  fanatic,  and  his  Juliette  as  her 
too  credulous  follower. 

The  excitement  of  the  night  was  followed  in  the 
case  of  the  poor  sufferer  by  a  stupor  so  profound  that 
it  was  only  by  her  intermittent  pulse  the  physician 
could  be  sure  she  still  lived.  Dr.  M ,  hastily  de 
spatching  a  note  to  a  brother  physician,  gave  himself 
wholly  to  the  work  of  watching  his  patient. 

Eliza,  when  her  services  were  not  needed,  sat  weep 
ing  in  the  boudoir.  The  nurse,  pale,  but  calm,  went 
quietly  on  in  the  performance  of  her  duty,  with  an 
occasional  whispered  remark  to  the  waiting-woman, 
that  the  crisis  must  come  soon.  Henry,  at  home,  in 
the  full  possession  of  his  senses,  wandered  like  a  ghost 
from  room  to  room,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  shake  off 
this  terrible  weight  at  his  heart ;  while  Mr.  Fearing, 
shutting  himself  into  his  library,  endured  the  most 
terrible  conflicts  in  his  impious  endeavors  to  fight 
against  God. 

Here,  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  Dr.  M 

sought  him  to  communicate  the  first  hopeful  tidings  it 
had  been  in  his  power  to  convey :  "  The  crisis  has 
passed,  and  my  patient  still  lives." 


88  JULIETTE. 

"  God  in  heaven  be  praised ! "  burst  from  the  fa 
ther's  lips. 

But  did  he  really  praise  God,  as  he  cautiously  fol 
lowed  the  footsteps  of  the  good  doctor  to  the  room 
above  stairs?  Did  his  heart  go  out  in  love  toward 
Him  who  had  been  better  to  him  than  his  fears  ?  Alas, 
no  !  It  was  only  lip-service  while  his  heart  was  still 
far  from  his  Maker. 

As  he  entered  the  chamber,  a  smile  lit  up  the  weary 
face  of  the  faithful  Eliza.  She  pointed  to  the  bed 
where  her  beloved  mistress  lay,  pale  and  wan  indeed, 
but  her  breast  heaving  softly  in  a  natural,  refreshing 
sleep.  For  the  first  time  tears  filled  his  eyes  :  he  drew 

Dr.  M into  the  boudoir,  and,  wringing  his  hands, 

said  hoarsely,  "All  I  have  can  never  repay  you. 
Your  skill  has  saved  her  life." 

"Not  so,"  returned  the  good  man,  scarcely  less  af 
fected.  "Life  and  death  are  ordered  by  God ;  lam 
but  a  humble  instrument  to  do  his  will." 

He  returned  to  the  chamber  to  wet  again  the  parched 
lips  of  the  prostrate  sufferer.  It  scarcely  roused  her ; 
and  she  soon  fell  back  into  the  same  tranquil  slumber. 

"Nature's  sweet  restorer,"  he  murmured,  with  a 
smile ;  "  that  balmy  sleep  will  do  more  for  you  than 
any  medicine."  Then  with  minute  directions  to  the 
skilful  nurse,  he  returned  home  to  enjoy  a  brief  hour 
of  repose  before  he  entered  once  more  upon  the  oner 
ous  duties  of  his  profession. 

No  sooner  was  Juliette  pronounced  out  of  immediate 
danger  than  her  brother,  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief, 


JULIETTE.  89' 

hastened  from  the  house  in  search  of  some  excitement. 
His  abstinence  from  wine  and  other  intoxicating 
liquors  had  given  his  eyes  a  wild  glare,  and  there  was 
a  continual  gnawing  at  his  vitals  which  must  be  al 
layed.  These  three  days  and  nights  seemed  like 
weeks,  so  fraught  had  they  been,  not  only  with  anxiety 
for  his  sister,  but  with  remorse  at  the  course  of  dissi 
pation  he  had  been  pursuing. 

Mr.  Fearing's  heart  began  to  swell  with  new  hopes 

from  the  moment  Dr.  M assured  him  his  daughter 

was  convalescent.  To  be  sure  there  might  at  any  mo 
ment  be  a  relapse,  if  the  cause,  whatever  it  might  be, 
was  not  removed ;  but  hope  had  once  more  spread  her 
wings  over  him,  and  he  trusted  that  all  would  be  well. 
He  passed  hours  at  a  time  in  the  sick-room,  and  minis 
tered  to  the  patient  sufferer  with  so  much  tenderness, 
that  though  at  first  his  presence  seemed  to  excite  her, 
connected  as  he  appeared  to  be  with  some  painful 
associations,  yet  she  always  welcomed  him  with  a 
smile,  and  at  length  became  uneasy  when  he  was 
away. 

With  a  woman's  skill  he  smoothed  her  pillow, 
brushed  the  close,  short  curls  from  her  pale  brow, 
read  to  her  and  related  the  on-dits  of  the  day.  Many 
times,  as  her  strength  began  to  return,  he  resolved  to 
ask  the  cause  of  her  sickness,  but  he  as  often  restrained 
himself.  First,  because  the  physician  had  expressly 
cautioned  him  against  any  subject  that  would  excite 
the  invalid,  and  because  he  had  a  secret  fear  that  his 
present  happiness  would  be  destroyed. 
8* 


90  JULIETTE. 

And  what  were  Juliette's  feelings  at  this  precious 
display  of  her  father's  affection?  At  first  she  knew 
not  how  to  interpret  it ;  but  presently  began  to  hope 
that  during  the  first  hours  of  her  sickness,  she  had 
revealed  to  him  the  true  state  of  her  heart,  and  that  he 
thus  meant  to  show  her  that  he  would  yield  his  con 
sent  to  her  wishes.  She  was  disappointed  as  day 
after  day  passed,  and  he  made  no  allusion  to  the  sub 
ject  ;  and  was  restrained  only  from  introducing  it  her 
self,  by  the  fact  of  her  extreme  debility. 

Without  the  knowledge  the  reader  possesses  of  Mr. 
Fearing's  character,  it  might  seem  weak  and  childish 
in  Juliette  to  be  so  much  in  dread  of  his  displeasure. 
But  we  have  nowhere  intimated  that  she  was  firm, 
independent,  or  courageous.  In  truth,  she  had 
never  outgrown  or  overcome  this  failing  of  her  child 
hood,  but  was  constitutionally  timid  and  distrustful  of 
herself.  She  yearned  for  a  strong  arm  to  support  her, 
a  firm,  self-reliant,  God-fearing  will  to  guide  and  di 
rect  her  own.  Now,  as  she  lay  on  her  couch  or  re 
clined  in  a  luxurious  easy-chair  gazing  at  her  father  as 
he  sat  reading  by  her  side,  her  pulse  fluttered  and  her 
heart  beat  painfully  as  she  realized  that  his  fond 
affection  might  at  any  moment  be  turned  to  fierce 
displeasure.  "  Surely,  there  can  be  no  sin  in  post 
poning  the  evil  day  as  long  as  I  may,"  she  said  to 
herself  one  night  after  a  vain  straggle  to  banish  the 
subject  from  her  thoughts.  "When  he  commands  me 
to  do  something  which  my  conscience  disapproves, 
that  will  be  the  time  for  me  to  confess  all." 


JULIETTE.  91 

This  resolve  was  a  weak  oue,  and  wanting  in  child 
like  confidence  in  her  heavenly  Father's  promise : 
"They  that  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be  as  Mount  Ziou, 
which  cannot  be  removed.  He  will  not  suffer  thy  foot 
to  be  moved.  The  Lord  is  thy  shade  upon  thy  right 
hand.  The  sun  shall  not  smite  thee  by  day  nor  the 
moon  by  night. .  The  Lord  shall  preserve  thee  from  all 
evil.  The  Lord  shall  preserve  thy  going  out  and  thy 
coming  in,  from  this  time  forth,  and  even  forever 
more." 

From  this  hour  Juliette  abandoned  herself  to  the 
delight  of  being  loved  and  petted.  Every  day  she 
twined  herself  more  strongly  about  her  father's  heart. 
As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  be  dressed,  he  began  to 
form  plans  for  her  happiness.  Would  she  prefer  to 
live  in  the  country  ?  He  would  purchase  an  estate  on 
the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Hudson.  Would  she  like 
to  travel?  As  soon  as  she  were  well,  they  would  start 
for  Europe,  surprise  Horace  and  his  party,  and  ac 
company  them  to  Italy. 

The  sick  girl's  eyes  grew  bright,  and  the  rose-tint 
beautified  her  pale  face  as  these,  the  dearest  dreams  of 
her  childhood,  seemed  about  to  be  realized.  How  ear 
nestly  she  had  talked  with  her  school-mates  of  the  de 
lights  of  visiting  the  countries  of  which  they  then  knew 
little  more  than  their  place  upon  the  map  !  and  now  to 
wander  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  to  sail  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean ;  more  than  all,  to  visit 
the  Holy  Land  in  company  with  her  brother  Horace,  — 
what  on  earth  could  she  ask  for  more  ? 


92  JULIETTE. 

Mr.  Fearing  saw  the  bright  blush  of  pleasure  which 
suffused  her  cheeks  at  the  thought  of  joining  Horace, 
and  his  newly-awakened  suspicions  were  more  than 
ever  confirmed.  "My  daughter,"  he  thought,  "is  not 
one  to  give  her  affections  unsought ;  and  yet,  I  cannot 
call  to  mind  one  act  of  his  which  might  not  have  oc 
curred,  had  he  been  her  own  brother. 

"  Since  they  were  children  together  in  the  nursery, 
Juliette  has  always  clung  to  Horace,  though  Henry  was 
nearer  her  own  age,  and,  when  separated  after  their 
mother's  decease,  they  kept  up  a  close  correspondence. 

"But  so  it  was,"  he  soliloquized,  in  my  own  case. 
"  I  cannot  remember  the  time  when  I  began  to  love 
my  own  Juliette ;  and  this  affection  grew  with  my 
growth,  and  strengthened  with  my  strength,  until  she 
seemed  a  part  of  my  own  being.  I  should  be  miser 
able,  indeed,  if  I  thought  that  either  of  my  dear  chil 
dren,  for  such  I  must  ever  regard  Horace,  would  suffer 
the  keen  pangs  I  endured  when  I  found  another  claimed 
one  I  considered  all  my  own.  I  wish  I  had  not  been 
so  blind.  Without  the  least  sacrifice  of  my  daughter's 
delicacy,  I  might  easily  have  ascertained  whether  Hor 
ace  regarded  her  with  more  than  brotherly  affection, 
and  if  so,  after  a  little  delay,  she  could  have  accompa 
nied  him  as  his  wife.  Yes,  he  is  the  man  I  should 
choose,  above  all  others,  as  the  husband  of  my  daugh 
ter.  He  is  manly,  upright,  and  generous.  Then  he  is 
the  heir  of  his  grandfather,  which,  with  his  own  for 
tune  and  Juliette's,  would  render  them  independent. 
But,  with  such  a  character  as  his,  were  he  not  possessed 


JULIETTE.  93 

of  a  copper,  he  is  the  son  of  my  loved  Juliette,  and  he 
should  have  her  for  the  asking. 

"But  supposing  that  he  only  loves  her  "with  a  calm, 
brotherly  affection,  such  as  I  have  always  supposed  to 
exist  between  them,  it  would  be  unwise  to  have  her 
thrown  so  constantly  into  his  society,  as  she  would  be 
were  they  travelling  together." 


CHAPTER  X. 


"  Faith  Is  the  subtle  chain 
That  binds  us  to  the  infinite :  the  voice 
Of  a  deep  life  within,  that  will  remain 
Unsullied  there  forever." 


THE  quiet  of  the  sick-room  now  began  to  be  enliv 
ened  by  calls  from  intimate  female  friends,  and 
the  constant  succession  of  bouquets  of  rare  exotics 
from  Juliette's  numerous  admirers.     Spring  was  open 
ing,  and  her  father  promised,  as  soon  as  Dr.  M 

thought  it  safe,  to  take  her  to  H for  a  visit  to 

her  grandmother. 

One  day,  in  his  absence,  the  invalid  was  reclining  in 
an  easy-chair,  opposite  the  bright  steel  bars  of  the 
grate  glowing  with  the  blazing  fire  of  coal.  The  rich 
folds  of  her  cashmere  dressing-gown  swept  the  floor, 
and  her  tiny  foot,  cased  in  an  embroidered  slipper, 
peeped  from  its  hiding-place  when  a  lady  was  announced 
who  had  been  a  friend  of  her  own  mother.  Juliette 
was  delighted,  and  eagerly  asked  many  questions  con 
cerning  her  early  married  life.  The  call  was  prolonged, 
and  at  last  was  only  ended  by  the  lady's  expressing 
anxiety  to  hear  a  distinguished  divine  from  abroad  who 
was  to  preach  in  their  church  this  morning. 

94 


JULIETTE.  95 

w  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  go  ! "  exclaimed  the  young 
lady,  her  face  beaming  with  excitement. 

"Are  you  interested  in  such  subjects,  my  dear?" 
asked  the  visitor,  warmly. 

"  More  than  in  any  other,"  was  the  meek  reply. 

The  lady  gazed  for  a  moment  upon  the  beautiful 
face  turned  so  wistfully  to  her  own,  looked  at  her 
watch,  and  said,  "The  morning  is  tine.  I  will  take 
you  there  and  bring  you  back  in  safety  ;  but  perhaps 
you  are  not  strong  enough." 

"I  fear  father  would  object  to  my  going  to-day," 
murmured  Juliette,  with  a  disappointed  air;  "as  I 
have  not  yet  left  my  room ;  but  perhaps  another  time 
you  will  repeat  your  offer. " 

"  Certainly,  I  will ;  and  not  only  that,  but  you  must 
let  me  love  you,  and  claim  an  early  visit  from  you,  for 
the  sake  of  your  mother." 

The  next  day  Dr.  M told  his  patient  that  she 

had  no  further  need  of  his  services,  as  with  care  and 
prudence  she  would  soon  be  well.  "I  suppose  you 
have  scarcely  heard  from  Mr.  Everett,  as  yet,"  he 
added,  in  an  arch  tone,  which  brought  a  rich  color  to 
her  lips.  "I  wonder  he  did  not  take  you  out  with 
him."  • 

"Father  intends  to  take  me  to  Europe,"  replied 
Juliette,  dropping  her  eyes  before  his  roguish  glance. 

"  Well,  Everett  is  a  fine  fellow.  I  have  heard  his 
name  in  connection  with  that  of  Miss  De  Forest.  Is 
there  any  truth  in  the  rumor  ?  " 


96  JULIETTE. 

"I  don't  know,  indeed.  I  have  never  heard  him 
speak  of  her." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  returned  Dr.  M , 

satisfied  by  her  meek,  sad  tone  that  his  suspicions  were 
correct.  "With  such  a  mother  as  he  had,  I  have  no 
idea  that  he  will  ever  choose  a  city  belle." 

"I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness,  doctor,"  ex 
claimed  the  young  lady,  her  eyes  glistening  with  tears. 
"  I  am  truly  sorry  to  have  you  forsake  me  just  as  I  can 
enjoy  your  visits." 

"  One  of  the  trials  of  my  profession,  child,  and  not 
a  small  one,  either."  Then,  warmly'  grasping  her 
hand,  he  bade  her  adieu. 

Juliette  had  rode  out  several  times,  and  was  begin 
ning  to  count  the  days  before  she  could  leave  for 

H ,  when  Henry  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  their 

departure  was  indefinitely  postponed.  She  had  never 
forgotten  the  promise  of  her  mother's  friend  to  take 
her  to  church,  and  was  delighted  to  accept  an  invita 
tion  to  pass,  a  quiet  day  at  her  house,  hoping  to  make 
some  definite  arrrangement  for  hearing  Mr.  D . 

Mrs.  Ward  Folsom  stood  high  in  society,  and  Mr. 
Fearing  was  much  pleased  with  her  attention  to  his 
daughter.  He  accompanied  Juliette  to  her  house,  on 
their  way  telling  her  Mrs.  Folsom  would  be  a  valuable 
friend. 

The  lady  received  her  young  guest  warmly,  and 
invited  her  to  her  own  room,  where  two  lovely  chil 
dren  soon  engaged  all  her  attention.  After  she  had 
amused  herself  with  them  for  an  hour,  their  mother 


JULIETTE.  97 

summoned  their  nurse  to  take  them  to  the  Park  ;  and 
then,  turning  to  Juliette,  said,  kindly,  "I  have  thought 
much  of  you  lately,  my  dear ;  and  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  frankly  all  about  your  love  for  religion  ;  for,  if  I  do 
not  mistake,  you  have  begun  to  follow  Christ." 

Juliette's  heart  swelled  with  gratitude  at  this  speech. 
She  considered  it  in  direct  answer  to  her  prayers, 
that  God  had  given  her  a  Christian  friend  to  counsel 
her.  "  I  shall  truly  be  glad  to  do  so,"  she  exclaimed, 
earnestly.  "You  cannot  tell  how  I  have  longed  for 
such  a  friend." 

She  then  unburdened  her  whole  heart  to  her  com 
panion,  —  the  trembling  hopes  she  entertained  that  she 
was  accepted  of  Christ,  —  the  sorrow  that  she  was  so 
unworthy  of  him,  and  the  struggles  for  courage  to  con 
fess  him  before  men. 

"You  attend  Dr.  A 's  church,  I  think,"  remarked 

Mrs.  Folsom,  much  moved  at  this  frank,  artless  ac 
count. 

"Yes  ;  father  has  always  attended  there  ;  that  is,  he 
considers  it  his  place  of  worship.  He  seldom  goes 
himself;"  and  Juliette  blushed  deeply. 

"Are  you  at  all  acquainted  with  the  doctor?" 

"I  have  never  seen  him,  except  in  the  pulpit." 

"Suppose  I  order  the  carriage,  and  take  you  there. 
I  am  well  acquainted  with  him,  and  will  assume  the 
whole  responsibility  of  the  call." 

"I  should  enjoy  it  exceedingly ;  but  — "  and  tears 
filled  her  eyes. 

"Will  you  forgive  me,  my  dear,  if  I  tell  you  that  I 
9 


98  JULIETTE. 

think  you  wanting  in  that  Christian  boldness  which 
David  manifested  when  he  said,  '  The  Lord  is  on  my 
side.  I  will  not  fear ;  what  can  man  do  unto  me? '  "  . 

"  I  will  go  with  you  at  once,  if  you  think  it  best," 
said  Juliette,  smiling  through  her  tears  ;  "  but,  indeed, 
I  have  a  poor,  trembling  heart." 

"When  they  were  seated  in  the  carriage,  the  lady 
took  the  hand  of  her  young  friend,  as  she  repeated  the 
promise,  "Thou  shalt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose 
mind  is  stayed  on  thee." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  .  Juliette ;  "while  I  was  sick,  I 
fully  realized  the  blessedness  of  that  precious  verse ; 
but  of  late  it  has  been  much  easier  for  me  to  dwell 
upon  another :  '  We  must  through  much  tribulation 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  I  don't  know  but  it  is 
wrong,"  she  added,  after  a  short  pause ;  "  but  I  am 
very  much  given  to  castle-building ;  and  I  persevere 
in  it,  though  one  after  another  of  my  lofty  structures 
falls  to  the  ground.  I  have  often  imagined  that  father 
lost  all  his  property,  and  we  lived  in  a  little  cottage  in 
the  country,  with  no  other  ornaments  except  the  pretty 
vines  I  trained  to  run  over  the  porch.  I  worked  hard 
all  day,  for  we  kept  no  servant ;  but  my  heart  was 
light,  and  I  went  singing  about  the  house.  Father  at 
first  was  melancholy ;  but  I  cheered  him.  I  had  my 
harp,  and  I  sang  him  songs  that  he  loved ;  but,  better 
than  all  the  rest,  at  last  he  let  me  read  the  Bible  to 
him.  Oh,  I  was  happy  then  !  "  and  her  face  glowed 
with  animation. 

Mrs.  Folsom  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 


JULIETTE.  99 

Every  moment  her  heart  was  more  drawn  out  toward 
the  lovely  girl.  "I  see,  my  dear,"  she  said,  kindly, 
"that  you  have  trials,  and  I  more  than  suspect  the 
nature  of  them  from  some  rumors  about  your  step 
mother's  last  days.  It  was  said  she  wished  to  unite 
with  Christ's  people,  but  was  deterred  by  her  husband. 
Some  time  you  must  tell  me  all  you  think  proper.  It 
is  not  from  curiosity  I  ask  it,  but  that  I  may  know 
how  to  advise  you." 

"I  don't  think  father  would  ever  consent  that  I 
should  make  a  profession  of  religion,"  faltered  Juli 
ette,  with  a  burning  cheek. 

"And  you  think  it  your  duty  to  do  so.  Is  that  it, 
my  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  can't  forget  that  it  was  our  Saviour's 
last  command,  made  just  before  he  offered  up  his  life  for 
me.  I  know  I  never  can  expect  God's  blessing  until 
I  obey.  But  then  I  often  tremble,  I  am  so  unworthy. 
You  know  what  a  terrible  curse  is  pronounced  upon 
those  who  do  not  approach  the  table  of  their  Lord  in 
faith  and  true  love  to  him." 

"  If  you  are  willing,  my  dear,  I  should  like  to  state 
your  case  to  your  good  pastor.  He  will  treat  you  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  father." 

Juliette  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  Thank 
you.  I  should  like  it  if  you  think  best." 

"But  your  own  heart  must  judge,  after  all.  No  one 
can  decide  a  case  of  conscience  for  you." 

"  So  my  brother  Horace  said." 

The  coachman  at  this  moment  drew  up  at  the  door 


100  JULIETTE. 

of  the  pastor's  house,  and,  after  ascertaining  that  he 
was  in  his  study,  they  alighted  and  were  shown  within. 
The  old  gentleman  treated  them  so  cordially,  that  Ju 
liette  soon  felt  acquainted,  and,  without  at  all  being 
conscious  of  it,  let  him  into  all  the  secrets  of  her 
heart.  '  When  they  left,  after  an  hour's  interview,  she 
was  more  than  ever  strengthened  in  her  resolve  to  be 
joined  to  the  people  of  God,  by  a  passage  he  repeated, 
and  which  continually  recurred  to  her  mind :  "  Heirs 
of  God  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ,  if  so  be  that  ye 
suffer  with  him,  that  ye  also  may  be  glorified  together." 

"What  a  fine  thing  it  is  thought  to  be,"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Folsom,  "to  be  heiress  to  a  great  fortune!  I 
have  often  heard  it  whispered  in  a  ballroom,  'There 
is  Miss  Fearing ;  she  is  a  great  heiress.'  But  how 
mean  compared  to  being  an  heir  of  God,  a  joint  heir 
with  Christ  to  the  riches  of  the  heavenly  inheritance  ! " 

Henry  Fearing 's  illness  was  caused  by  the  excessive 
use  of  ardent  spirits.  It  was  followed  by  a  slight 

attack  of  mania  a  potu.  Dr.  M assured  not 

only  Mr.  Fearing,  but  the  patient  himself,  that  unless 
he  abandoned  the  use  of  spirituous  liquors,  his  health 
would  be  wholly  destroyed.  For  a  few  weeks  the 
young  man  remembered  the  warning;  but  after  that 
his  gay  companions  gathered  around  him,  and  drew 
him  back  into  their  charmed  circle.  They  could  not 
afford  to  lose  from  their  clubs  one  who  spent  his 
money  so  profusely  for  the  gratification  of  their  de 
praved  appetites. 

Mr.  Fearing  often  spoke  of  leaving  the  country,  but 


JULIETTE.  101 

disliked  to  do  so  while  his  mother  continued  as  feeble 
as  she  was  at  present.  In  the  mean  time  he  received 
a  letter  from  Horace,  enclosing  one  also  for  his  daugh 
ter.  This  he  delivered  her  with  so  marked  an  empha 
sis  on  the  words,  "A  precious  epistle  for  you,  Juli 
ette,"  that  she  quickly  left  the  room  to  hide  her  con 
fusion. 

When  in  her  own  apartment  she  took  herself  se 
verely  to  task  for  her  emotion.  "  What  will  father 
think  ?  "  she  asked.  *;  I'm  sure  I  don't  at  all  understand 
why  I  should  blush  so  at  the  mention  of  my  brother's 
name.  Horace  is  nothing  more  than  a  dear,  very 
dear  brother  to  me.  It  must  have  been  father's  man 
ner  that  embarrassed  me  so."  "But  still,"  whispered 
a  soft  voice,  "you  were  greatly  pained  at  the  thought 
of  his  being  interested  in  Miss  De  Forest."  "  Cer 
tainly,  because  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  him  united 
to  any  mere  belle.  He  ought  to  have  a  Christian 
wife." 

All  these  thoughts  flashed  through  her  mind  while 
she  locked  the  door  of  her  chamber,  drew  a  chair  near 
the  window,  and  tore  open  the  envelope.  Though  it  is 
hardly  civil  to  read  a  confidential  letter,  yet  we  give  it 
as  follows :  — 

"I  should  never  have  had  courage,  my  sweet  sister, 
to  have  left  home,  had  I  realized  what  a  pang  it  would 
have  cost  me  at  the  last  moment  to  tear  myself  away. 
I  suppose  father  told  you  how  comfortably  we  were 
situated  in  our  cabins,  and  how  many  books  my  uncle 
9* 


102  JULIETTE. 

had  provided  for  the  voyage ;  and  so  I  will  pass  on  to 
other  things.  My  aunt  is  just  such  a  woman  as  you 
would  love ;  and  she  so  won  upon  my  confidence  that 
before  we  were  half  the  way  to  Havre,  I  had  told  her 
not  only  the  sweet  hopes  that  fill  my  heart,  but  re 
lated  your  history,  too ;  I  mean  that  part  of  it  which 
referred  to  your  religious  experience.  She  feels 
strongly  interested  in  you,  and  said,  only  yester 
day,  'How  I  wish,  Horace,  we  had  persuaded  Mr. 
Fearing  to  trust  his  daughter  with  us  for  a  tour 
through  Europe ! ' 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  how  warmly  my  heart  responded 
to  this  wish.  I  was  homesick  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Would  you  have  come,  dear  Juliette? 

"Do  you  remember  the  subject  of  our  conversation 
on  the  day  we  visited  our  mothers'  graves  ?  You  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  unite  with  the  church,  and  I  feared 
to  advise  you.  Mrs.  Everett  said  you  were  right, 
and  I  wrong.  I  acknowledge  this  has  been  true  many 
times.  She  says,  'It  is  plainly  your  duty  as  well  as 
your  privilege  to  take  a  stand  with  the  people  of  God, 
and  claim  the  blessing  he  has  promised  those  who  thus 
honor  him.'  I  would  I  were  with  you  to  stand  by 
your  side  on  this  most  solemn  occasion.  I  shall  be 
with  you  ill  spirit,  and  shall  pray  that  He  who  orders 
all  events,  may  make  this  the  means  of  dear  father's 
conversion.  I  feel  condemned  that  I  have  had  so  lit 
tle  faith  that  God  would  touch  his  heart.  I  have 
indeed  prayed  for  it,  but  with  a  secret  feeling  that  it 
was  too  much  to  expect.  Now  I  mean  to  wrestle  for 


JULIETTE.  103. 

him  as  Jacob  did,  and  say  to  the  angel  of  the  cov 
enant,  'I  will  not  let  thee  go  until  thou  bless  me.'  I 
have  fully  determined  to  unite  myself  with  the  English 
Church  at  Havre,  over  which  one  of  our  own  country 
men  is  settled.  Pray  for  me,  Juliette,  that  I  may  not 
be  deceiving  myself. 

"Before  I  close,  dear  sister,  I  must  ask  you  to  for 
give  me  for  what  I  said  to  you  at  the  cemetery.  How 
could  I  have  censured  you  for  pursuing  the  same 
course  as  I  myself  was  pursuing  ?  I  confess  with 
shame  that  I  was  in  part  actuated  by  other  motives, 
which  I  did  not  think  it  best  to  confide  to  you  at  that 
time.  You  have  ever  looked  with  a  sister's  leniency 
upon  my  faults,  so  I  will  persuade  myself  that  you 
will  do  it  again,  though  I  fancied  that  you  were  unusu 
ally  grave  and  reserved  for  a  day  or  two  before  I  left. 
When  I  return  I  will  lay  open  my  whole  heart  before 
you ;  then  perhaps  you  will  not  blame  me  for  my 
many  apparent  inconsistencies.  I  shall  send  my  jour 
nal  to  this  date  in  the  next  vessel ;  and  shall  scarcely 
dare  impose  another  long  epistle  upon  you,  unless  I 
receive  one  of  equal  length. 

"  YOUR  BROTHER  HORACE." 

Two  hours  after  the  reception  of  this  letter,  Juliette 
ordered  her  own  carriage,  and  went  to  make  another 
call  upon  her  pastor.  Dismissing  Peter,  she  deter 
mined  to  delay  no  longer,  but  make  known  her  request 
to  be  admitted  to  his  church.  It  was  a  deeply  inter 
esting  hour  to  her,  as  she  stated  to  him  the  grounds 


104  JULIETTE. 

of  her  hope  that  she  was  accepted  of  Christ,  and  an 
swered  his  heart-searching  question-s  concerning  her 
repentance,  faith,  and  love.  It  was  three  weeks  be 
fore  she  would  be  called  to  make  her  profession  of 
faith  in  public.  In  the  mean  time  she  must  confess  to 
her  father  what  she  was  about  to  do. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  separate  you  from  their  company,  and  shall 
reproach  you,  and  cast  out  your  name  as  evil,  for  the  Son  of  Man's  sake." 

THE  next  evening  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  who  had  passed  many  nights  in  the  care  of 
his  son,  was  afflicted  with  a  severe  headache.  Juliette 
found  him  reclining  on  the  lounge  in  the  library,  and 
sought,  with  all  a  daughter's  tenderness,  to  do  some 
thing  for  his  relief. 

Henry,  during  his  convalescence,  was  extremely 
irritable  and  difficult  to  please ;  so  much  so  that  the 
servants  complained  that  they  must  leave.  His  father 
was  the  only  one  who  could  control  him.  He  had  for 
bidden  Juliette  remaining  in  her  brother's  room. 

At  an  early  hour,  and  just  as  the  loving  daughter 
was  persuading  her  father  to  retire,  Henry,  who,  con 
trary  to  his  father's  wishes,  had  left  the  house,  returned 
home  evidently  much  intoxicated. 

Mr.  Fearing  was  justly  displeased;  but  Juliette 
looked  so  frightened,  that  he  merely  rang  the  bell,  and 
ordered  that  Rufus  be  sent  to  assist  his  young  master 
to  bed,  deferring  his  remonstrance  until  another  time. 
He  lay  down  upon  the  sofa  again,  and,  with  a  heavy 

105 


106  JULIETTE. 

sigh,  exclaimed,  "That  boy  will  ruin  himself  and 
break  my  heart ! " 

Juliette  said  all  she  could  think  of  to  soothe  him ; 
ran  to  her  room  for  her  vinaigrette,  and  was  so  anxious 
to  please  him,  that  he  endeavored  to  throw  off  his 
forebodings  of  evil  for  his  son,  and  show  her  that  he 
appreciated  her  affection.  They  talked  a  long  time 
of  Horace,  of  his  love  for  his  beautiful  mother,  of  the 
length  of  time  before  he  would  return,  until  Juliette 
thought  he  had  never  been  so  tender  before.  "  Why," 
she  thought,  "  shall  I  not  improve  this  opportunity, 
and  unburden  my  heart  of  this  secret,  which  weighs 
so  heavily  upon  it?"  With  a  silent  prayer  for  strength 
and  wisdom  to  guide  her,  she  took  advantage  of  a 
brief  pause  to  say,  "Father,  are  you  well  enough  for 
me  to  tell  you  something  ?  " 

He  started  up,  fixed  his  penetrating  eyes  on  her  face, 
as  he  signified  his  assent. 

"I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  for  a  long,  long  time," 
she  went  on,  lifting  his  hand  to  her  lips,  "  but  I  have 
delayed  because  —  because  I  feared  that  you  would  be 
displeased."  She  trembled  a  little  at  his  searching 
look,  but  added,  softly,  "Shall  I  tell  you  now, 
father?" 

Again  he  answered  only  by  a  bow. 

She  stood  up,  and  wound  her  arm  around  his  neck, 
as  she  murmured,  "I  love  my  Saviour,  and  have 
promised  to  confess  him  before  the  world." 

"Never,  with  my  consent,"  he  shouted,  throwing 
from  him. 


JULIETTE.  107 

WO  father,  father!  "  she  cried,  falling  at  his  feet, 
"don't  say  that.  I  have  prayed  and  longed  for  you  to 
be  willing.  I  will  be  a  good  daughter  to  you,  I  love 
you  so  dearly ;  but  I  cannot  disobey  my  God." 

"Who  has  dared  to  counsel  you  in  this?  Speak, 
child  !  I  know  you  would  never  have  gone  into  such 
mad  folly  if  you  had  been  left  to  yourself." 

"It  was  the  Bible  and  my  own  conscience,  father. 
I  dare  not  act  contrary  to  the  word  of  God.  My  Sa 
viour  says,  'Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me.'" 

"Juliette  !"  cried  Mr.  Fearing,  and  his  voice  shook 
with  anger,  "I  have  cursed  Mrs.  Osborn  for  daring  to 
impose  her  mad  fanaticism  upon  you.  Do  not  let  me 
curse  you.  But  no,"  he  added,  Avith  a  mighty  effort 
controlling  his  passion ;  "  my  daughter  will  not  thus 
return  my  lavish  affection.  Give  up  these  foolish 
notions,  and  I  will  forgive  all." 

"O  father!"  exclaimed  Juliette,  with  a  burst  of 
tears,  "  ask  me  anything  but  that.  I  cannot,  I  ought 
not  to  sacrifice  my  own  soul.  I  can  die,  father,  but  I 
cannot  live  as  I  have  done,  denying  my  Saviour." 

With  a  terrible  oath,  the  infuriated  father  began  to 
curse  his  daughter;  but,  interrupting  himself,  cried 
out,  "Leave  me  ;  but  remember  I  will  hear  no  more 
of  this  !  You  must  and  shall  obey  me  !  Oh,  what  a 
curse  is  an  ungrateful  child  !  And  to  think  till  within 
an  hour  I  had  been  deceiving  m}rself  with  the  idea  that 
my  daughter,  my  only  daughter,  loved  me,  and  was 
obedient  to  my  wishes." 

Poor  Juliette  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 


108  JULIETTE. 

i 

She  approached  her  father,  and  would  have  kissed 
him,  but  he  haughtily  waved  her  away.  "No,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  not  until  you  promise  to  give  up  forever 
your  absurd,  insane  idea  of  obtaining  notoriety  by  the 
course  you  mention,  will  I  accept  your  caresses.  Go, 
child,  before  I  shower  curses  on  your  head ;  and  re 
member  that  you  have  caused  your  father  a  sleepless 
night."  He  groaned  aloud,  but,  at  a  fierce  gesture, 
his  weeping  daughter  desisted  from  urging  him,  and 
turned  in  sorrow  from  the  room. 

Hurrying  through  her  toilet,  she  evaded  Eliza's  anx 
ious  inquiries,  and,  dismissing  her  from  the  chamber, 
sought  relief  in  prayer.  Notwithstanding  her  deep 
distress  at  her  father's  conduct,  her  heart  was  more  at 
rest  than  it  had  been  for  months.  "  I  have  done  my 
duty,"  she  exclaimed,  with  streaming  eyes.  "I  have 
sacrificed  my  father's  affection  to  my  love  for  my  Sav 
iour,  and  still  I  can  say,  'Though  he  slay  me,  yet 
will  I  trust  him.' " 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  tumult  that 
raged  in  Mr.  Fearing's  breast  after  his  daughter  left 
him.  As  I  said  in  the  commencement  of  this  chapter, 
the  conduct  of  his  son  had  given  him  , great  anxiety. 
He  could  not  understand  why  Henry,  situated  similarly 
to  himself  at  the  same  age,  could  not  resist  the  temp 
tations  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  —  why  the  gam 
bling-saloons,  and  all  the  haunts  of  iniquity,  from  which 
he  had  shrunk  with  contempt  and  loathing,  should  lead 
another  captive  at  their  will.  Within  a  few  weeks  he 
had  paid  large  sums  to  redeem  Henry's  debts  of  honor, 


JULIETTE.  109 

as  he  falsely  termed  them,  and  his  headache  on  the 
present  occasion  arose  mainly  in  consequence  of  a 
stormy  interview  with  his  son,  in  which  he  positively 
refused  to  advance  another  dollar  for  such  a  purpose. 
He  tried,  as  we  have  seen,  to  shake  off  the  thought 
of  his  son,  and  enjoy  the  affectionate  care  of  his 
daughter.  If  she  had  only  then  been  aware  of  it, 
she  could  scarcely  have  chosen  a  more  unfavorable 
opportunity  for  her  confession.  After  she  left  him, 
he  strode  fiercely  across  the  spacious  apartment,  almost 
ready  to  curse  the  day  he  was  born.  "Who  can  it 
be,"  he  asked  himself  again  and  again,  "that  has 
dared  to  influence  my  child  to  an  act  like  this?  A 
profession  of  religion,  indeed  !  As  if  I  would  allow  a 
daughter  of  mine  to  go  before  a  public  assembly  to 
proclaim  herself  a  sinner,  and  all  that  sort  of  foolery  ! 
Pshaw  !  Keligion  is  only  a  sham.  In  all  my  experi 
ence,  there  are  no  greater  cheats,  none  who  are  so 
ready  to  take  advantage  of  their  fellows,  as  these  same 
fanatics  in  religion.  As  I  have  often  heard  my  father 
say,  they  will  pray  in  the  corners  of  the  streets  if  men 
will  be  fools  enough  to  listen  ;  they  will  talk  long  and 
loud  of  their  piety,  their  benevolence,  their  purity  ;  and 
yet  no  greater  scamps  can  be  found  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Religion  is  a  cloak  to  hide  their  enormities.  I 
see  it  all  now.  Mrs.  Osborn  (how  I  have  been  deceived 
in  her  !)  persuaded  my  poor,  timid  Juliette  into  embrac 
ing  her  views,  thinking  that  she  would  thus  induce  me  to 
leave  her  longer  under  her  care.  I  am  sure,  if  she  had 
been  left  alone,  she  would  have  been  a  child  after  my 
10 


110  JULIETTE. 

own  heart.  I  don't  know  that  I  should  object  to  the 
lady  trying  her  power  with  Henry.  A  little  sobering 
of  his  senses  would  not  hurt  him  at  present.  But 
Juliette!"  — 

Mr.  Fearing,  like  many  others,  considered  a  certain 
degree  of  religion  as  adding  to  his  respectability,  but 
greatly  deprecated  the  idea  of  being  considered  right 
eous  overmuch. 

Here  the  father's  feelings  began  to  soften,  as  he  re 
called  all  his  daughter's  acts  of  dutiful  affection.  The 
agony  he  had  experienced  during  her  recent  sickness 
flashed  upon  his  memory,  and  he  sighed  heavily  as  he 
said,  half-aloud,  "If  I  violently  oppose  her  wishes  in 
this  respect,  she  may  be  taken  from  me.  Poor  little 
thing !  I  wonder  what  she  \frould  say  if  I  were  to  give 
my  consent  after  all.  I  can  conceive  just  ho\v  her  eyes 
would  beam  with  pleasure,  and  how  earnestly  she  would 
say,  'Dear  father,  I  will  be  such  a  loving  daughter  to 
you  that  you  will  never  regret  this  kindness.'  Fool 
ish  and  absurd  as  I  consider  her,  I  have  no  doubt  she 
attaches  the  utmost  consequence  to  this  public  profes 
sion,  as  she  calls  it.  'Ask  me  to  do  anything  but  that,' 
she  said;  'I  can  die;  but  I  can't  deny  my  Saviour.' 
Well,  I  really  did  not  believe  she  had  so  much  spunk ; 
but  let  women  alone  where  their  will  is  concerned. 
Some  are  just  as  strenuous  about  a  new  set  of  jewelry, 
a  fashionable  hat,  or  new  style  of  cloak,  whatever  it 
may  be  ;  if  you  oppose  them,  the  cry  is,  'Anything  but 
that.' " 

At  a  late  hour  he  retired  to  his  couch,  which,  as  he 


JULIETTE.  Ill 

had  anticipated,  was  a  sleepless  one.  The  great  question 
to  be  decided  was  this  :  "Shall  I  yield  my  wishes,  or 
require  her  to  do  so  ?  "  Many  times  her  amiable  tem 
per,  her  sweet,  winning  manners,  her  frank,  artless  af 
fection  for  him,  almost  determined  him  to  offer  no  ob 
stacle,  if  she  still  persisted  in  thinking  it  a  duty  to  pro 
fess  Christ.  But  that  iron  will  which  had  seldom  been 
successfully  opposed,  how  could  it  yield  now,  and  to  a 
mere  child  ?  When  the  morning  dawned  he  had  deter 
mined  upon  his  course,  which  we  shall  learn  from  the 
events  that  followed. 


CHAPTER 


"Walk 

Boldly  and  wisely  in  the  light  thou  hast  : 
There  is  a  hand  above  will  help  thee  on." 

JULIETTE,  whose  pillow  had  been  wet  with  her 
tears,  arose  early,  and  passed  more  than  her  usual 
time  in  private  devotion.  She  truly  felt  the  need  of 
an  Almighty  arm  to  support  her  in  this  hour  of  distress. 
Eliza  begged  her  to  return  to  bed,  and  allow  her  to 
bring  a  cup  of  chocolate  to  the  chamber  ;  but  she  de 
clined,  though  she  actually  started  when  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  pale,  haggard  face  in  the  mirror. 

When  she  entered  the  breakfast-room  she  found  her 
father  there,  engaged  in  reading  a  hasty  note  from 
H  -  ,  informing  him  of  his  mother's  relapse,  and  re 
questing  him  to  come  to  her  without  delay. 

He  started  up  when  his  daughter  entered,  and  gave 
her  the  note  to  read  ;  then  led  Her  to  the  table,  evi 
dently  pained  by  the  marks  her  countenance  bore  of 
her  late  excitement. 

"I  should  like  to  go  with  you,"  she  said,  raising  her 
eyes  timidly  to  his. 

"It  will  depend  wholly  on  yourself  whether  you  do 
so,"  he  answered,  impressively,  with  a  glance  at  the 

112 


JULIETTE.  113 

attendants.     "I  will  talk  with  you  on  the  subject  after 
breakfast." 

* 

After  this,  she  could  scarcely  do  more  than  to  raise 
the  cup  to  her  lip.  "With  all  her  soul  she  shrank  from 
another  encounter  like  that  of  the  preceding  night. 
When  the  mere  form  of  eating  was  concluded,  Mr. 
Fearing  said,  "Will  you  come  to  the  library  for  a  few 
minutes?"  She  followed  him  in  silence,  her  heart 
sending  up  a  prayer  to  God  for  help  to  be  faithful  to 
him. 

He  drew  a  chair  for  her  near  the  table,  and,  avoid 
ing  her  eye,  said,  "As  you  may  well  suppose,  my 
daughter,  your  sudden  and  unexpected  avowal  last 
night  caused  me  the  keenest  regret  and  displeasure. 
Probably  I  was  too  harsh  in  my  expression  of  it,  and 
I  have  asked  you  here  that  we  may  have  a  calm  and 
dispassionate  conversation  on  the  subject." 

Juliette's  countenance  brightened,  and,  looking  at  him 
affectionately,  she  said,  "Thank  you,  sir;  that  is  what 
I  should  like."  She  then,  at  his  request,  gave  him  a 
brief  account  of  her  wishes,  the  length  of  time  she  had 
entertained  them,  and  the  means  she  had  adopted  for 
their  accomplishment,  carefully  avoiding  any  mention 
of  Mrs.  Folsom's  influence. 

He  was  moved  by  her  frank  avowal,  though  he  en 
deavored  to  appear  indifferent,  and  then  said,  "I  wish 
to  make  two  propositions  to  you,  but  the  answer  to 

them  may  be  deferred  till  my  return  from  H , 

unless  you  at  once  decide  upon  acceding  to  the  first, 
in  which  case  I  should  like  to  have  you  accompany  me 
10* 


114  JULIETTE. 

there  and  remain  with  your  grandmother  as  long  as 
you  choose.  It  is  this.  That  you  give  up  these  fool 
ish  notions  you  imbibed  from  Mrs.  Osborn,  and  accom 
pany  me  to  Europe  in  the  next  steamer,  where  we  shall 
at  once  join  Horace,  and  travel  in  connection  with  his 
party." 

"And  what  is  the  other?"  she  faltered,  as  he  paused, 
pressing  her  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"It  is  this.  Go  forward  as  you  expressed  your  de 
termination  to  do,  and  make  yourself  a  byword  and 
reproach.  Let  the  finger  of  scorn  be  pointed  at  you 
as  the  ungrateful,  disobedient  child,  and  my  house  can 
no  longer  be  your  home.  I  shall  disinherit  you  at 
once,  and  you  must  no  longer  look  to  me  for  protec 
tion." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Juliette  was  obliged  to  clutch 
the  chair  for  support.  The  color  faded  from  her 
cheeks  and  lips,  and  her  father  feared  she  would  fall. 
She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  a  quivering 
voice  feebly  articulated  :  "Even  so,  Father,  for  so  it 
seemeth  good  in  thy  sight." 

Mr.  Fearing,  not  understanding  the  import  of  her 
words,  but,  fearing  from  her  manner  that  she  refused 
to  obey  him,  exclaimed  in  a  sharp,  impatient  tone, 
"  You  cannot  realize  what  it  will  be  to  be  thrown  upon 
the  world  for  protection ;  you,  who  have  been  brought 
up  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  to  earn  your  daily  bread. 
Think  well  before  you  decide.  Obey  your  father, 
which  is  a  duty  enforced  in  your  Bible,  and  share  my 
fortune  equally  with  your  brother,  have  every  wish  of 


JULIETTE.  115 

your  heart  gratified,  and  my  unbounded  gratitude  and 
affection.  Disobey  me,  and  be  an  outcast  from  your 
home  and  from  society,  a  disgrace  to  all  connected  with 
you.  I  leave  for  H — — in  an  hour;  when  I  return,  I 
shall  expect  your  final  answer." 

"Father  !"  the  tone  was  heart-rending;  "I  need  no 
delay.  The  trial  you  force  upon  me  may,  indeed, 
prove  my  death ;  but  I  cannot  give  up  my  Saviour. 
No  !  even  if  I  leave  home,  kindred,  and  friends,  to  follow 
him.  This  is  my  answer ;  "  and,  with  a  flood  of  tears, 
she  attempted  to  rise  and  leave  the  apartment. 

"Rash,  mad,  unthinking  girl !  "  he  cried,  seizing  her 
hand  to  detain  her ;  "  but  I  will  not  waste  words  with 
you.  Reflect  well  before  you  decide.  I  will  not  accept 
your  answer  until  my  return." 

He  walked  hastily  from  the  room,  leaving  the  poor 
girl  so  faint  and  trembling  that  she  could  scarcely  gain 
her  own  apartment. 

Nearly  an  hour  later,  she  heard  her  father's  voice  in 
the  hall,  and  with  a  sudden  resolve  went  out  to  meet 
him.  He  stopped  and  gazed  eagerly  at  her,  hoping 
she  had  come  to  retract  her  decision.  Her  face  was 
pale,  and  fixed  as  marble,  though  her  eyes  were  bril 
liant  as  if  lighted  by  fever.  "  Good-by,  dear  father," 
she  murmured,  softly.  "Will  you  kiss  me  once 
more?" 

"Never!"  he  exclaimed,  angrily,  "until  you  can 
learn  to  obey  me." 

With  a  sharp  cry  of  pain,  as  if  he  had  struck  her, 
she  turned  wearily  away,  and  entered  her  boudoir. 


116  JULIETTE. 

Before  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  he  turned 
back  with  a  mighty  longing  to  hold  her  once  to  his 
heart,  but  pride  forbade,  and  he  hastened  on. 

During  the  long  hours  of  that  terrible  day,  Juliette 
lay  upon  her  bed,  stunned  with  the  awful  blow  that 
had  fallen  upon  her.  She  tried  to  rouse  herself,  and 
endeavor  to  form  some  plan  for  the  future,  but  was 
totally  unable  to  connect  her  thoughts.  Eliza  was 
fully  convinced  that  her  young  mistress  was  about  to 
have  another  attack  of  brain  fever,  and  was  strenuous 
in  her  plea  that  Dr.  M- ought  at  once  to  be  sum 
moned.  Toward  night  the  young  girl  fell  into  a  light 
slumber,  from  which  she  awoke*  more  composed. 
Sometimes  she  resolved  to  send  for  Mrs.  Folsom,  or 
her  pastor,  to  come  to  her  aid ;  but  always  unaccus 
tomed  to  act  for  herself,  she  dared  not  take  such  a 
step.  Then  she  determined  to  visit  Mrs.  Osboru,  and 
obtain  her  assistance  in  some  plan  for  self-support. 
But  this  she  knew  would  incense  her  father,  and  was 
given  up.  She  at  length  arose  from  her  bed,  and 
having  taken  some  slight  refreshment,  sat  down  to 
read  a  portion  of  Scripture.  She  opened  the  book, 
and  her  eyes  fell  upon  these  words  :  "  Though  I  walk 
in  the  midst  of  trouble  thou  Avilt  revive  me  ;  thou  shalt 
stretch  forth  thine  hand  against  the  wrath  of  mine  ene 
mies,  and  thy  right  hand  shall  save  me."  "  Cast  thy 
burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  sustain  thee." 

"Yes,"  she  repeated,  "I  will  trust  thy  gracious  word. 
I  have  no  earthly  arm  to  lean  upon ;  but  my  Father  in 
heaven  will  never  leave  me  nor  forsake  me."  Once 


JULIETTE.  117 

more  she  bowed  the  knee  and  committed  herself  to  his 
care,  and  then  returning  to  her  couch,  her  exhausted 
nature  found  refreshment  in  sleep. 

The  stars  were  still  shining  when  she  awoke,  con 
fused  with  the  vague  remembrance  of  some  painful 
event ;  but  presently  the  incidents  of  the  previous  day 
rushed  into  her  mind.  In  imagination  she  once  more 
beheld  her  father  placing  before  her  the  temptations  of 
the  world  to  allure  her  from  her  Saviour  :  a  beautiful 
country  home,  and  a  journey  through  foreign  lands. 
She  knew  she  had  clone  right ;  but  oh !  what  might 
Horace  think  when  told  she  had  refused  to  join  him? 
She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept  bitter, 
bitter  tears  as  she  realized  that  she  might  never  see 
him  more. 

"  Oh,  why,  why  must  I  give  up  all  my  friends  ?  My 
trial  is  greater  than  I  can  bear  !  "  For  a  few  moments, 
the  thought  of  all  she  was  about  to  resign,  —  a  luxu 
rious  home,  a  high  position  in  society,  —  which,  though 
she  had  never  valued  it  much,  seemed  alluring  now 
that  she  was  about  to  exchange  it  for  poverty  and  con 
tempt, —  her  dear  friends,  her  pastor,  and  the  church 
of  which  she  was  about  to  become  a  member,  —  all 
this  overwhelmed  her  with  anguish.  She  wept  con 
vulsively,  bathing  her  pillow  with  her  tears.  But  in 
the  midst  of  her  distress,  she  seemed  to  hear  a  sweet 
voice  saying,  "Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  hate 
you,  and  when  they  shall  separate  you  from  their 
company,  and  shall  reproach  you,  and  cast  out  your 
name  as  evil,  for  the  Son  of  man's  sake.  Rejoice 


118  JULIETTE. 

ye  in  that  day  and  leap  for  joy ;  for  behold,  your 
reward  is  great  in  heaven." 

Poor,  afflicted,  yet  happy  girl !  what  blessed  peace 
and  joy  filled  thy  soul !  She  lay  for  some  time,  her 
hands  folded  on  her  breast,  musing  on  these  precious 
words,  as  the  gracious  Spirit  unfolded  their  true  im 
port  :  "  These  afflictions  are  but  for  a  day,  and  thy 
quiet  submission  to  them  shall  be  rewarded  with  an 
eternity  of  bliss."  Her  tears  ceased  to  flow,  and  she 
was  able  to  collect  her  thoughts  for  the  formation  of 
some  plan  of  action.  Her  father  might  return  at  any 
hour,  when  a  repetition  of  the  scenes  of  yesterday 
could  only  result  in  his  increased  displeasure.  Juli 
ette  felt  it  to  be  her  duty  to  place  herself  out  of  the 
way  of  temptation.  She  had  already  chosen  her  path  ; 
and  she  would  write  him  that  it  was  her  final  decision 
to  follow  her  Saviour,  even  though  it  led  her  far  away 
from  the  protecting  care  of  one  who  was  bound  to 
cherish  and  support  her. 

Having  resolved  to  leave  home,  it  was  wonderful 
how  easy  everything  appeared.  She  rang  her  bell, 
and  directed  Eliza  to  pack  into  a  trunk  what  would  be 
necessary  for  an  absence  of  a  few  months,  selecting 
the  simplest  articles  from  her  wardrobe ;  and  in  the 
mean  time  was  pleased  to  find  that  her  last  allowance 
from  her  father  remained  untouched.  A  few  tears 
were  shed  as  she  recalled  the  words  of  Horace  :  "  If 
anything  should  occur,  dear  sister,  remember  that  I 
have  an  ample  fortune,  and  I  expect  to  share  it  with 
you."  When  the  trunk  was  ready,  she  ordered  break- 


JULIETTE.  119 

fast  in  her  boudoir ;  and  when  the  waiting-maid  had 
gone  to  hers,  she  passed  the  time  in  selecting  some 
valuable  jewelry,  given  her  by  her  grandparents  and 
brother  Horace,  which  she  locked  in  her  dressing-case, 
and  crowded  into  the  bottom  of  her  trunk. 

Eliza,  who  was  extremely  fond  of  her  mistress,  looked 
exceedingly  grave  as  she  found  her  already  arrayed  in 
her  travelling  dress,  and  ventured  to  ask  whether  she 
might  not  accompany  her. 

This  question  quite  unnerved  poor  Juliette,  who  had 
been  fortifying  her  mind  against  the  dreadful  thought 
of  going  alone,  she  knew  not  whither.  For  one  instant 
she  determined  to  take  her,  but  then  rejected  the  plan 
as  unwise.  "You  have  been  a  good  girl,  Eliza,"  she 
said ;  "  I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness  to  me  while 
I  was  sick."  She  selected  the  largest  ring  from  her 
finger  and  added,  "Wear  this  for  my  sake." 

After  ascertaining  that  Henry  was  sleeping  off  the 
effects  of  his  night's  dissipation,  she  gave  up  the  idea 
of  seeing  him,  but  determined  to  write  her  farewell* 
Then,  sending  word  to  Peter  that  she  should  wish  the 
carriage  in  an  hour,  she  sat  down  and  wrote  her  father 
as  follows,  — 

"MY     DEARLY     BELOVED     FATHER, Never      have 

you  seemed  so  dear  as  now,  when  with  streaming 
eyes  I  take  my  pen  to  bid  you  a  long  farewell. 
The  memory  of  all  your  love,  your  tender  care  dur 
ing  my  recent  illness,  your  constant  acts  of  affec 
tion  rush  over  me  with  almost  overpowering  force; 


120  JULIETTE. 

but  I  am  about  to  leave  you.  Yes,  you  have  placed 
this  alternative  before  me,  and,  in  compliance  with  my 
Saviour's  commands,  I  must  leave  all  and  follow  him. 
I  had  vainly  fancied  that  by  my  dutiful  affection  I 
might  win  from  you  the  privilege  of  acting  as  my  con 
science  dictates,  and  yet  remain  under  your  roof.  Oh, 
how  ardently  have  I  longed  and  prayed  for  this  !  But 
that  hope  has  gone  forever,  and  nothing  remains  but 
for  me  to  submit.  I  go  forth  ignorant  of  the  ways  of 
the  world,  and  not  knowing  whither  to  direct  my 
steps ;  but  my  trust  is  in  God,  who  has  promised  to 
sustain,  strengthen  me,  and  comfort  my  poor,  trem 
bling  heart.  Could  I  believe  that  my  daily  and  nightly 
prayers  for  you  would  be  answered,  and  that  the  love 
and  peace  of  God  would  fill  your  soul,  even  as  amidst 
the  keen  anguish  of  parting  from  all  I  hold  dear,  they 
do  my  own,  I  could  praise  him  through  all  eternity. 

"  When  you  write  Horace,  will  you  give  him  the  best 
wishes  of  his  sister's  heart? 

"Dear,  dear  father,  farewell. 

"  Your  loving,  weeping 

"JULIETTE." 

"  When  my  father  returns  give  him  this,"  she  said 
to  Eliza,  who  stood  tearfully  obeying  her  last  orders. 
The  servants  collected  at  the  door,  tears  glistening  in 
their  eyes,  and  uttering  remonstrances  against  her 
sudden  departure.  She  caught  Mrs.  Cumniings  by 
the  hand  and  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not  command 
her  voice.  They  all  felt  that  something  was  amiss; 


JULIETTE.  121 

but  no  one  dared  utter  the  suspicion ;  and,  with  a  hasty 
glance  around  the  loved  home  of  her  childhood,  she 
hastened  down  the  steps,  and  was  almost  lifted  by 
Peter  into  the  carriage. 

"  Where  shall  I  drive,  miss?"  he  asked,  putting  his 
head  in  at  the  window. 

"  Take  me  to  the  Harlem  cars,"  she  faltered  in  an 
almost  inarticulate  tone. 

Throwing  herself  back  in  the  carriage  in  all  the 
abandonment  of  grief,  one  line  in  a  favorite  song,  in 
connection  with  this  terrible  parting,  continual^  re 
curred  to  her  mind,  — 

"  It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  forever." 

After  this  she  seemed  like  one  walking  in  a  dream. 
She  had  a  vague  remembrance  that  Peter  asked  her  if 
he  should  buy  a  ticket  for  New  Haven,  that  he  placed 
one  in  her  hand  and  also  a  check  for  her  trunk ;  but 
she  was  stupefied  with  grief,  and  rode  on  mile  after 
mile,  unable  sufficiently  to  compose  herself  to  decide 
upon  her  future  course. 
11 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

"  My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain." 

ON  the  morning  of  the  third  day  after  his  daugh 
ter's  departure,  a  note  came  from  Mr.  Fearing, 
addressed  to  her.  Mrs.  Cummings  was  half  distracted 
at  this  confirmation  of  her  fears  that  he  was  not  aware 
of  her  absence.  At  last,  trembling  with  dread  of  his 
displeasure,  she  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  read  the 
enclosed  note,  in  order  to  decide  whether  it  was  her 
duty  to  inform  him  of  the  sad  event. 

The  hasty  lines  were  evidently  written  while  his 
heart  was  subdued  by  grief,  and  were  as  follows,  — 

"  MY  BELOVED  DAUGHTEE,  — I  write  from  your 
grandmother's  room,  which  I  have  scarcely  left  for  a 
moment.  The  physician  has  now  informed  us  that 
she  cannot  survive  many  hours.  She  has  just  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  see  you  once  more.  If  you  take 
the  next  boat  you  may  possibly  find  her  alive. 
Dear  child,  I  long  to  see  you  and  fold  you  in  my 
arms.  Try  to  banish  every  hard  thought,  and  re 
member  that  I  love  you,  and  under  all  circumstances, 
will  endeavor  to  make  you  happy. 

"EDWARD  FEARING." 

122 


JULIETTE.  123 

"  What  shall  I  do  ? "  exclaimed  the  anxious  house 
keeper  to  Eliza,  who  stood  pale  and  trembling  at  her 
side.  "  He  thinks  her  safe  at  home.  I  wish  Mr.  Hor 
ace  were  here,  or  even  Mr.  Henry,  to  relieve  me  of  the 
responsibility  of  acting  by  myself.  I  must  either  go 
or  write,  and  have  only  an  hour  to  decide  which." 
Presently  she  rang  the  bell  and  directed  Peter  to  have 
the  carriage  at  the  door  as  quickly  as  possible,  when, 
hastily  arraying  herself  in  a  riding-dress,  she  told  him 
to  carry  her  to  Mrs.  Folsom's. 

The  lady  was  engaged  in  writing,  but  came  at  once 
when  she  learned  who  wished  to  see  her. 

"Excuse  me  for  calling,  madam,"  began  the  visitor, 
in  a  strange,  hurried  manner;  "but  Miss  Juliette  sud 
denly  left  home  two  days  ago.  We  all  thought  there 
was  something  wrong  about  it,  and  to-day  this  letter 
comes  to  her  from  her  father." 

Mrs.  Folsoni  read  the  letter  in  silence.  She  alone 
possessed  the  knowledge  which  might  explain  the 
young  girl's  conduct.  Her  cheek  flushed  with  indig 
nation  as  the  possible  meaning  of  the  underscored 
words  flashed  through  her  mind ;  but  this  was  no  time 
to  give  it  vent.  "You  must  go  to  him  at  once,"  she 
said,  firmly. 

"  I  dare  not  be  the  one  to  tell  him,"  cried  the  house 
keeper  in  alarm.  "At  such  a  time,  too,  it  would  kill 
him." 

"Write  then,  write  immediately,  or  it  will  be  too 
late;  stay,  I  will  write  in  your  name;  what  shall  I 
say?" 


124  JULIETTE. 

"  Oh,  whatever  you  please.  Eliza  says  her  mistress 
directed  her  to  pack  clothes  enough  to  last  several 
months." 

Mrs.  Folsom  pressed  her  hand  to  her  head  uncer 
tain  whether  to  inform  Mr.  Fearing  of  the  absence  of 
Juliette,  or  to  request  him  to  return  without  delay. 
Putting  her  pen  to  paper  she  rapidly  traced  the  fol 
lowing  words,  • — 

"MB.  FEAKING,  —  I  opened  your  letter,  as  your 
daughter  is  away  from  home.  Please  return  as  soon 
as  possible. 

"SARAH  CUMMINGS." 

Contrary  to  the  expectation  of  the  physician,  Mrs. 
Fearing  lingered  until  toward  morning,  and  then  sank 
away  into  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  Several 
times,  in  the  course  of  the  day  and  night,  she  inquired 
whether  her  grand-daughter  had  arrived,  and  expressed 
disappointment  in  not  seeing  her. 

Calling  her  son  to  the  bed,  she  motioned  for  him  to 
put  his  ear  to  her  mouth,  and  then  with  difficulty  ut 
tered  these  words  :  "  Tell  Juliette  that  I  loved  her  and 
left  her  my  blessing.  She  is  to  have  all  my  wardrobe 
and  jewels ;  but  all  I  have  can  never  repay  her  for  her 
earnest  prayers  for  me.  Tell  her  I  died  resting  on 
Christ." 

She  paused  and  seemed  greatly  exhausted,  but 
presently  .added  :  "Dear  Edward,  there  is  nothing  can 
reconcile  me  to  death,  but  Christ.  He  —  "  A  fit  of 


JULIETTE.  125 

coughing  interrupted  her,  and  she  never  resumed  her 
sentence. 

When  it  was  announced  that  all  was  over,  her  son 
rushed  from  the  chamber  and  locked  himself  in  his 
own  apartment.  "This,  then,"  he  exclaimed  to  him 
self,  "is  the  source  from  whence  my  mother  derived 
that  peace  and  resignment  which  has  filled  me  with 
wonder.  There  must  be  a  reality  and  power  in  relig 
ion  that  I  never  imagined.  Ah,  my  poor  Juliette  ! " 

The  ensuing  hour  was  one  he  never  forgot.  Re 
morse  for  the  course  he  had  pursued  toward  his  chil 
dren  ,  —  for  in  that  dreadful  heart-scrutiny  he  feared  he 
had  sinned  as  much  in  not  restraining  his  son,  as  in 
his  cruel  taunts  to  his  daughter,  —  and  terror  at  the  idea 
that  the  grim  messenger  might  even  now  be  on_the 
wing  to  summon  him  to  his  dread  account,  struggled 
for  mastery  in  his  breast.  Then  his  thoughts  turned 
to  Juliette.  He  wondered  that  she  had  not  obeyed 
his  summons.  How  disappointed  she  would  be  in 
finding  herself  too  late  ! 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  thoughts  the  haughty  man 
was  pleased  that  the  sad  affliction  which  had  befallen 
him  would  give  him  the  opportunity,  he  now  really 
desired,  to  retract  what  he  had  last  said  to  her.  He 
could  even  anticipate  the  grateful  affection  that  she 
would  lavish  upon  him,  as  he  consented  to  her  living 
the  life  of  a  Christian. 

A  low  knock  at  his  door  startled  him.  He  ap 
proached  it,  expecting  to  see  Juliette,  but  it  was  only 
a  servant,  who  put  a  note  in  his  hands  with  the  addi- 
11* 


126  JULIETTE. 

tional  information  that  it  ought  to  have  been  delivered 
the  day  before.  ' 

It  was  not  even  in  Juliette's  well-known  writing. 
He  tore  it  open,  vexed  at  himself  for  a  feeling  of 
anxiety ;  but  had  scarcely  glanced  at  its  contents, 
when  he  cried  aloud,  "  Juliette  away  from  home ! 
What  can  it  mean?" 

He  crushes  the  note  in  his  hand,  and  begins  to  walk 
the  room.  Of  course  she  is  only  absent,  making  a 
call  perhaps  on  her  friend,  Mrs.  Folsom.  He  looks 
at  his  watch.  "  It  is  not  too  late  for  her  to  come  by 
the  morning  boat.  But  why  does  Mrs.  Cummings 
wish  me  to  return?  At  such  an  hour  she  must  be 
aware  that  I  cannot  leave  this  place.  I  fear  there  is 
something  more  than  meets  the  eye." 

In  accordance  with  a  hasty  resolve,  he  goes  below 
stairs,  where  he  finds  Dr.  Morrison  endeavoring  to 
comfort  his  father.  Calling  him  aside,  he  inquires 
whether  any  arrangements  have  been  made  for  the 
funeral,  saying  he  would  send  an  undertaker  from 
the  city. 

"  But  surely  you  will  not  leave  your  father  until 
after  the  funeral,"  urged  the  doctor. 

"I  expected  Juliette.  I  have  received  this,"  fal 
tered  the  distressed  man. 

Dr.  Morrison  glanced  at  the  crumpled  note.  "  Prob 
ably  Henry  has  had  another  attack  of  delirium,  which 
has  frightened  the  good  woman," he  remarked.  "That 
boy  will  kill  himself,  unless  you  put  him  under  re 
straint." 


JULIETTE.  127 

"Yes,  that  must  be  the  case,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fear 
ing,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "I  forbade  Juliette  to  enter 
his  room  on  a  former  occasion,  and,  like  a  dutiful  child, 
she  has  now  absented  herself.  Her  mind  and  heart 
are  too  pure  for  such  a  scene." 

By  the  time  he  reached  New  York,  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  convincing  himself  that  it  was  wholly  on 
Henry's  account  he  was  summoned  home.  Mrs.  Cum- 
mings  recognized  his  hasty  ring,  and,  before  Eufus, 
the  porter,  could  answer  any  question,  presented  her 
self  tremblingly  before  him. 

"  Where  is  my  daughter  ? "  was  his  first  eager  in 
quiry. 

With  her  handkerchief  at  her  eyes,  the  woman  an 
swered,  "She  has  not  yet  returned." 

"Returned!  From  what  place?  Where  has  she 
gone?" 

"Ah,  sir  !  that  is  what  we  do  not  know.  She  left 
the  morning  after  you  did.  Now  I  think  of  it,  Eliza 
has  a  note  for  you,  which,  no  doubt,  will  explain." 

"Tell  her  to  bring  it  to  me." 

Struggling  for  calmness,  he  entered  the  parlor,  and 
languidly  threw  himself  into  a  seat.  The  letter,  ad 
dressed  to  "My  dearly  beloved  father,"  was  in  his 
hands,  but  he  could  not  summon  courage  to  open  it. 
"  Bring  me  a  glass  of  wine,"  said  he  to  Eliza  who  lin 
gered,  longing  to  hear  something  concerning  her  young 
mistress.  When  he  had  drank  it,  he  added,  "Tell  Mrs. 
Cummings  that  my  mother  died  this  morning,  and  that 
no  one  is  to  be  admitted." 


128  JULIETTE. 

The  note  has  been  already  given  to  the  reader,  and 
it  may  well  be  imagined,  in  the  softened  state  of  Mr. 
Fearing's  heart,  what  its  effect  would  be  upon  him. 
Sorrow  and  bitter  remorse  had  begun  their  work.  For 
three  days  and  nights  he  had  watched  beside  his  moth 
er's  couch,  snatching  a  few  moments  of  sleep  in  a  lol- 
ling-chair  at  her  side  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  thought  of 
fatigue.  Now,  when  he  needed  all  his  strength  and 
clearness  of  thought,  he  found  himself  weak  and  help 
less  as  a  child.  His  brain  whirled ;  he  clung  to  the 
side  of  the  chair  for  support,  and  presently,  with  a 
loud  crash,  he  fell  forward  upon  the  floor. 

The  porter  was  the  first  one  who  reached  him,  and, 
with  a  sharp  scream  for  help,  tried  to  raise  his  master 
to  a  sitting  posture.  ^  Other  servants  rushing  in,  he  was 
laid  gently  upon  the  lounge,  Mrs.  Cummings  ordering 
Peter  to  go  at  once  for  Dr.  M . 

At  this  command,  Mr.  Fearing  opened  his  eyes  and 
made  a  gesture  of  dissent.  "  I  was  faint,"  he  spoke 
with  difficulty.  "I  shall  be  well,  shortly.  Mrs.  Cum 
mings,  will  you  order  a  cup  of  coffee  to  the  library? 
I  have  eaten  no  breakfast."  Feebly  raising  himself, 
he  endeavored  to  walk  across  the  room,  but  was  obliged 
to  lean  upon  the  arm  of  Kufus.  "Leave  me, "said  he, 
as  the  servant  brought  him  a  plate  of  hot  rolls  with 
his  second  cup  of  coffee.  "  I  can  eat  nothing  more." 
He  arose  and  locked  the  door,  feeling  as  if  the  weight 
of  years  had  fallen  upon  him.  "O  Juliette!  Juli 
ette  !  "  he  groaned  aloud ;  "  child  of  my  heart,  come 
back  to  me.  My  beloved  daughter,  I  will  never  thwart 


JULIETTE.  129 

you  more."  He  extended  his  arms,  while  his  pro 
truded  eyeballs  seemed  fastened  upon  the  door ;  but 
no  light  step  was  heard  approaching;  no  graceful 
form  timidly  sought  his  embrace ;  nothing  could  be 
heard  but  the  wild  beating  of  his  own  desolate  heart, 
echoing  to  the  thought,  "  She  has  gone  from  me  !  gone 
forever ! " 

Once  more  he  opened  and  perused  her  letter,  every 
word  of  which  was  like  a  dagger  piercing  his  inmost 
soul.  Not  one  expression  of  anger,  not  one  sigh  of 
complaint.  "  Father,  you  have  placed  this  alternative 
before  me ;  you  bid  me  choose  between  my  luxuriant 
home,  blessed  by  your  affection,  and  my  crucified 
Saviour.  I  love  you,  father ;  but  I  dare  not  sacrifice 
my  soul,  which  Christ  shed  his  precious  blood  to  save." 
Oh  !  those  soft,  pleading,  earnest  eyes,  which  were  up 
turned  to  his  face,  when  she  uttered  similar  words, 
how  clearly  they  were  daguerreotyped  on  his  memory  ! 
how  had  he  resisted  their  eloquent  entreaties,! 

At  length,  with  a  mighty  effort  at  self-control,  he 
rang  the  bell,  and  directed  Eliza  to  be  sent  to  him. 
From  her  he  learned  all  that  has  been  narrated  to  the 
reader  connected  with  his  daughter's  departure  from 
home,  and  the  fact  stated  by  Peter,  that  he  had  seen 
her  on  board  the  Harlem  cars. 

At  this  last  intelligence,  Mr.  Fearing  started  to  his 
feet,  exclaiming,  in  an  eager  tone  of  delight,  "  Without 
doubt,  she  is  with  Mrs.  Osborn.  What  a  fool  I  have 
been,  not  to  surmise  this  before  !  I  will  follow  her  at 
once,  and  see  her  before  I  sleep." 


130  JULIETTE. 

He  was  hastening  to  the  door ;  but,  before  he  reached 
it,  staggered,  and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  Eliza's 
assistance. 

"My  long  watching  has  unnerved  me,"  he  said, 
apologizing  for  his  weakness,  as  she  led  him  to  the 
sofa.  "  I  cannot  go  myself.  Tell  Peter  to  go  to  the 
store,  and  ask  the  head-clerk  to  come  here  directly, 
prepared  to  go  out  of  town  for  the  night." 

The  afternoon  car  for  New  Haven  left  at  five.  There 
would  be  abundant  time  to  reach  it,  and  also  to  attend 
to  preparations  for  his  mother's  funeral.  While  Peter 
was  gone,  he  bade  Eliza  bring  him  his  writing-desk, 
and  with  a  trembling  hand  penned  the  following 
words,  — 

"Come  back,  my  daughter,  to  your  father's  arms. 
Come  back ;  and  there  shall  be  no  more  dissension 
between  us." 

Ah,  how  many  months  and  years  of  anguish  might 
have  been  spared,  could  she  have  received  that  short 
epistle  !  But  I  must  not  anticipate. 

In  less  than  two  hours,  the  clerk,  whose  name  was 
Hooper,  reached  D ,  and  lost  no  time  in  proceed 
ing  to  Mrs.  Osbdrn's  school.  Upon  sending  his  name 
as  a  clerk  of  Mr.  Fearing,  the  lady  instantly  appeared. 

"Is  Miss  Fearing  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  somewhat  surprised  at  your  question,"  replied 
the  lady,  drawing  herself  up  with  some  dignity,,  as  she 
recalled  her  last  interview  with  Mr.  Fearing.  "  I  have 
never  seen  my  former  pupil  since  her  father  took  her 
away,  last  autumn." 


JULIETTE.  131 

"Nevertheless,  madam,  my  employer  sent  me  here 
with  a  note  to  his  daughter,  whom  he  believed  to  be  in 
your  family." 

Mrs.  Osborn's  countenance  began  to  express  anxiety 
as  well  as  surprise.  "  How  long  has  she  been  absent 
from  home?"  was  her  eager,  hurried  inquiry. 

"  I  did  not  ascertain.  Mr.  Fearing  has  just  returned 
from  the  country.  His  mother  died  early  this  morn 
ing,  and,  upon  his  return  to  the  city  to  make  prepara 
tions  for  the  funeral,  he  found  her  absent.  It  is  to 
inform  her  of  this  sad  event,  I  was  sent  to  find  her. 
At  least,  this  is  what  I  inferred,  though  I  acknowledge 
there  is  a  mystery  about  her  absence,  and  her  father's 
ill-concealed  anxiety  in  consequence  of  it." 

The  lady  sat  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  speaker,  the 
shadow  deepening  on  her  face.  "  Was  the  young  lady 
in  good  health?"  at  length  she  inquired.  v 

"  She  has  never  looked  strong  since  her  severe  and 
dangerous  illness  early  in  the  season.  It  occurred 
just  after  Mr.  Everett  sailed  for  Europe,  and  rumor 
connected  the  events  together." 

"  Strange,  that  I  never  heard  of  it,"  faltered  Mrs. 
Osborn,  half  aloud;  "but  where  can  my  poor  Juliette 
be?" 

Mr.  Hooper  then  gave  the  lady  an  account  of  the 
brilliant  success  of  the  young  heiress  during  the  past 
winter,  — the  parties  and  balls  made  for  her  benefit,  — 
the  grace  and  dignity  with  which  she  presided  over  her 
father's  elegant  mansion,  and  the  excitement  her  beauty 
and  artlessness  had  occasioned  among  the  bon  ton. 


132.  JULIETTE. 

The  lady  was  more  pained  than  she  cared  to  express 
to  a  stranger.  That  her  beloved  pupil  should  create  a 
sensation  was  what  she  had  easily  prophesied  ;  but  had 
she  passed  this  ordeal  without  endangering  her  own 
soul?  Suppressing  her  emotion,  she  inquired,  "  When 
shall  you  leave  for  New  York  ?  " 

"As  early  as  possible.  It  seems  important  that  Mr. 
Fearing  should  know  I  have  failed  in  meeting  his 
daughter  here." 

"  Certainly.     Why  not  take  the  midnight  train  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  there  was  a  train  till  morn 
ing  ;  but  I  shall  do  so,  without  fail." 

"  Mr.  Hooper,  you  are  a  stranger  to  me ;  but  I  am 
about  to  ask  of  you  a  favor.  Miss  Fearing  was  com 
mitted  to  my  care  by  her  dying  mother,  who  was  my 
dear  friend.  She  was  with  me  for  years ;  but  since 
she  left,  I  have  received  but  one  letter  from  her,  in 
answer  to  a  score  that  I  have  sent.  Your  errand 
causes  me  the  greatest  anxiety,  and  I  must  beg  of  you 
to  write  me,  or  suggest  to  her  to  do  so,  that  I  may  be 
relieved  of  my  solicitude  on  her  behalf." 

"With  pleasure,  madam.  You  may  expect  to  hear 
from  me  within  a  week ; "  and,  taking  leave  of  her,  he 
returned  to  the  hotel  to  wait  the  arrival  of  the  cars. 

The  agony  of  Mr.  Fearing  may  be  better  imagined 
than  described,  when,  at  the  earliest  hour  he  could 
gain  admission,  Mr.  Hooper  called  to  announce  the 
entire  want  of  success  in  his  mission. 

He  sat  upright  in  bed,  gazing  in  the  face  of  his 
clerk,  as  if  he  could  scarcely  comprehend  his  words ; 


JULIETTE.  133 

but  presently  rousing  himself,  called  out,  in  a  loud 
voice,  "Quick,  let  no  time  be  lost.  Send  for  the 
chief  of  police  ! " 

Sooner  than  could  have  been  expected,  the  gentle 
man  made  his  appearance,  and  was  immediately  put  in 
possession  of  the  facts,  as  far  as  concerned  the  young 
lady's  departure. 

His  cool,  self-possessed  air,  and  the  confident  tone 
in  which  he  said,  "We'll  find  trace  of  her  before 
night,"  went  far  to  tranquillize  the  almost  distracted 
parent.  One  after  another,  the  servants  were  called, 
and  underwent  a  close  examination  as  to  the  minutest 
circumstances,  the  officer  carefully  noting  in  a  small 
book  whatever  he  deemed  of  importance.  Then,  after 
a  full  description  of  her  personal  appearance  and  dress, 
accompanied  by  a  miniature  of  Juliette,  he  turned  to 
Mr.  Fearing,  with  the  remark,  "Probably  you  are 
aware  of  some  cause  your  daughter  may  have  had  in 
leaving  your  protection.  Without  any  desire  to  be 
impertinent,  I  ought  to  inform  you  that  were  I  ac 
quainted  with  the  facts,  it  would  aid  me  much  in  my 
search ;  for  instance,  had  she  an  unfortunate  attach 
ment?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  returned  Mr.  Fearing,  with 
an  indignant  flush,  as  he  realized  that  his  cruelty  had 
subjected  her  to  such  a  suspicion.  His  voice  changed, 
and  his  countenance  grew  pale,  as  he  added,  "There 
was  a  reason,  as  you  suppose.  I  was  unwilling  she 
should  make  a  profession  of  religion,  and  in  order  to 
force  a  compliance  with  my  wishes,  threatened,  if  she 

12 


134  JULIETTE. 

disobeyed  me,  to  withdraw  my  support  and  protection. 
I  need  not  tell  you,"  faltered  the  distressed  man,  "that 
this  was  but  a  threat,  and  that  I  regret  it  most 
keenly." 

No  one  could  doubt  this  who  witnessed  his  ghastly 
countenance,  from  which  cold  drops  were  constantly 
exuding ;  certainly  the  chief  of  police  did  not.  With 
out  a  word  of  comment  he  reiterated  his  expectation 
of  finding  the  lost  one,  and  left  the  house. 

With  him  departed  all  the  father's  new-born  hopes. 
Imagination  was  rife  with  the  most  dreadful  visions, 
while  the  tooth  of  remorse  gnawed  painfully  at  his 
heart.  He  scarcely  thought  of  his  mother's  decease  ; 
or,  if  for  a  moment  it  flashed  through  his  mind,  it  was 
succeeded  by  a  feeling  of  relief  that  she  could  not 
share  in  this  terrible  anxiety.  He  called  loudly  for 
Horace,  cursing  himself  that  his  illness  prevented  his 
personal  participation  in  the  search ;  but  turned 
fiercely  upon  Henry  when  he  offered  his  services. 
ToAvard  night  his  excitement  became  so  alarming  that 
Mrs.  Cummings  assumed  the  responsibility  of  sending 

for  Dr.    M ,  who   immediately   insisted   that   his 

patient  should  take  a  powerful  anodyne. 

Though  it  was  scarcely  possible  that  anything  could 
be  learned  of  the  poor  wanderer  until  the  arrival  of 
the  evening  cars,  yet  the  slightest  noise,  —  the  ring 
of  the  door-bell,  the  stopping  of  a  carriage,  —  caused 
Mr.  Fearing  to  tremble  with  emotion.  Fixing  his 

o  cj 

keen  eyes  upon  every  one  who  entered  his  chamber, 


JULIETTE.  135 

he  yet  feared  to  ask  a  question  lest  the  awful  ap 
prehensions  of  his  mind  should  be  realized. 


"  O  conscience  1  into  what  abyss  of  fears 
And  horrors  hast  thou  driven  me ;  out  of  which 
I  find  no  way,  from  deep  to  deeper  plunged." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  None  have  accused  thee ;  'tis  thy  conscience  cries, 
The  witness  in  the  soul  that  never  dies ; 
Its  accusation,  like  the  moaning  wind 
Of  wintry  midnight,  moves  thy  startled  mind;          * 
Oh,  may  it  melt  thy  hardened  soul,  and  pour 
From  out  thy  frozen  heart  life  evermore  I " 

HENRY  FEARING,  who  needed  the  most  power 
ful  motives  to  induce  him  to  leave  his  boon  com 
panions,  was  now  completely  sobered  by  this  accumula 
tion  of  trials.  His  grandmother  deceased,  his  sister  a 
homeless  wanderer,  his  father  distracted  with  horrible 
forebodings,  it  became  him  to  act  his  part  like  a  man. 
The  servants,  who  had  hitherto  regarded  him  with  ill- 
concealed  contempt,  now  looked  with  wonder  upon  him 
as  he  stood  consulting  with  their  kind  physician,  and 
attending  to  the  business  necessary  to  be  done.  As 
certaining  from  Mr.  Hooper  that  an  undertaker  was 
to  be  sent  from  the  city,  he  also  despatched  one  of  his 

father's  clerks  toH to  inform  his  grandfather  there 

of  his  illness,  and  afford  what  aid  might  be  needful. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  a  loud,  decided  ring 
at  the  door-bell  seemed  to  announce  tidings  either  of 
good  or  of  evil.  An  officer  was  admitted,  sent  by  the 

136 


JULIETTE.  137 

chief  of  police,  whom  Henry,  according  to  directions, 
accompanied  at  once  to  his  father's  chamber". 

Mr.  Fearing  was  dressed,  and  reclining  on  a  lounge. 
On  seeing  the  gentleman  he  started  to  his  feet,  but 
immediately  sank  back  trembling  with  fear. 

"  Speak,"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely ;  "  have  you  found 
her?" 

"  We  think  we  have  got  upon  the  right  track," 
answered  the  man.  "But  if  you  will  allow  me,  I 
will  give  you  the  particulars." 

Henry  drew  a  chair  for  the  officer  opposite  his 
father's  lounge,  when  he  proceeded, — 

"With  your  daughter's  miniature  and  a  full  de 
scription  of  her  dress  in  my  hand,  I  took  the  Harlem 
cars  for  New  Haven.  A  young  miss  travelling  alone, 
her  eyes  red  with  weeping,  was  observed  by  the  con 
ductor,  who  remembered  the  day  in  consequence  of 
some  questions  about  her  trunk.  She  told  him  she 
was  unused  to  the  care  of  baggage,  and  begged  his 
assistance  in  having  it  sent  to  the  place  where  she  in 
tended  to  stop." 

Mr.  Fearing  breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  while 
Eliza's  tears  flowed  freely,  as  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I'm 
sure  that  is  my  dear  mistress  !  " 

With  a  gesture  of  impatience  from  the  excited  father, 
the  officer  went  on.  "  I  had  no  doubt  I  was  on  the 
right  track,  and  having  noted  in  my  pocket-book  the 
name  and  number  of  the  street  where  the  young  miss 
wished,  to  go,  I  showed  the  picture  to  the  conductor. 
But  he  had  only  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  dis- 

12* 


138  JULIETTE. 

figured  by  excessive  weeping,  and  failed  to  recognize 
it.  The  dress,  as  nearly  as  he  could  recollect,  ans 
wered  to  the  description. 

"  On  reaching  New  Haven  I  went  directly  to  E 

street,  and  inquired  whether  a  young  lady  by  the 
name  of  Fearing  was  staying  there.  'No,'  was  the 
prompt  reply.  At  this  answer  I  stepped  inside  the 
door,  and  informed  the  servant  that  I  had  business  of 
importance  with  her  mistress.  I  was  well  aware  that 
a  lady  might,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  take  a  feigned 
name,  and  I  determined  not  to  rest  satisfied  until  I  had 
seen  her.  The  lady  of  the  house  presently  made  her 
appearance,  when  I  arose  and  introduced  myself.  '  A 
young  miss,'  I  said,  '  left  New  York  on  Tuesday  of 
this  week.  I  have  traced  her  to  this  house,  and  shall 
be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  allow  me  to  see  her.' 

"  Without  a  word  of  comment  (a  woman  of  sense 
she  was) ,  she  stepped  to  the  door  and  called  'Alice  ;  ' 
when  a  pretty  girl  tripped  down  the  stairs  and  entered 
the  door." 

Mr.  Fearing  caught  his  handkerchief  and  held  it  to 
his  eyes,  while  tears,  the  first  he  had  shed,  trickled 
through  his  fingers. 

"  Well,  sir  ! "  cried  Henry,  impatiently. 

"  I  was  informed  Miss  Fearing  wore  her  hair  short 
and  curling;  this  Alice,  as  they  called  her,  had 
abundant  tresses,  twisted  into  a  large  knot  at  the  back 
of  her  head." 

"Then  it  was  not  our  Juliette,  after  all."     Henry 


JULIETTE.  139 

spoke  indignantly,  while  his  father  groaned  and 
sobbed  aloud. 

"  They  were  very  curious  to  know  why  I  wished  to 
see  her ;  and  I  told  them  sufficient  for  my  purpose. 

"Miss  Alice  started  up,  her  face  aglow  with  excite 
ment  !  '  I  think  I  can  help  you,'  she  said.  '  A  beau 
tiful  girl  occupied  the  same  seat  with  me,  and,  while  T 
wept,  she  kindly  took  my  hand.  I  noticed  she  sighed 
often.  I  told  her  I  was  hastening  to  a  friend  who  was 
very  ill.  The  tears  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  replied,  — 
'II,  too,  have  bitter  trials ;  but  our  heavenly  Father 
sends  them  to  us  in  love  to  draw  us  to  him."' 

Mr.  Fearing's  sobs  ceased ;  he  gazed  in  the  face  of 
the  officer  as  for  his  life. 

"  That  sounds  like  my  dear  mistress,"  muttered 
Eliza. 

The  officer  continued. 

"'Did  she  look  like  this?'  I  asked,  presenting  the 
picture.  'Her  countenance  was  much  more  sad,'  she 
answered,  in  a  tone  of  disappointment,  'but  not  really 
unlike  it  after  all.  She  sat  j»t  my  side,  so  I  could  not 
look  her  in  the  face  ;  but  I  think  she  must  have  been 
the  one.  When  the  cars  leached  New  Haven,  I  asked 
where  she  was  going ;  and  I  remember  now  that  I 
thought  her  somewhat  embarrassed,  as  she  answered, 
"I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  I  shall  go  as  far  as 
Boston."' 

"All  this  time  she  held  the  picture  in  her  hands,  and 
said,  'I  see  more  likeness  the  longer  I  look  at  it;  but 
her  eyes  were  not  so  bright,  and  her  face  was  thinner.' 


140  JULIETTE. 

'Miss  Fearing  has  been  sick,'  I  said,  'which  might  ac 
count  for  that.  Did  you  notice  her  dress?'  'Not 
particularly,  I  was  so  much  absorbed  in  my  own 
grief;  but  I  think  she  wore  a  genteel  travelling  dress  ; 
and  I  remember  she  had  a  very  small  foot,  neatly  cased 
in  a  boot  of  the  same  color  as  her  dress.  She  tried  to 
make  it  stay  on  the  foot-rest,  but  it  kept  slipping  off.' 

"I  thanked  the  young  miss,  and,  having  gained  all 
the  information  in  my  power,  I  joined  my  associate  at 
the  depot,  repeated  to  him  what  I  had  learned,  and  de 
spatched  him  to  Boston,  while  I  returned  to  prosecute 
more  particular  inquiries  between  New  Haven  and  New 
York.  I  authorized  him  to  employ  as  many  of  the 
Boston  police  as  were  necessary  to  effect  his  purpose, 
and  promised  to  join  him  to-morrow,  unless  he  tele 
graphs  me  that  he  has  succeeded  in  his  search.  There 
is  only  one  fact  which  prevents  me  from  fully  con 
curring  in  the  opinion  of  Miss  Alice,  and  that  is  this,  — 
her  trunk  was  checked  to  New  Haven,  and  would,  of 
course,  be  taken  out  there  unless  the  check  was  changed, 
and  this  I  thought  the  lady  would  not  think  of  except 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  conductor.  I  determined  to 
sift  this  before  I  advanced  a  step  further. 

"  First  I  went  to  the  baggage-master ;  but  he  remem 
bered  no  such  exchange,  so  I  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  wait  for  the  conductor.  He  eagerly  inquired  about 
my  success,  when  I  told  him  all  that  had  occurred.  He 
rubbed  his  head,  and  tried  to  recall  any  such  circum- 
-  stance;  said  if  I  had  inquired  the  next  day  he  might 
possibly  have  remembered  it ;  but  young  ladies  unused 


JULIETTE.  141 

to  travelling  were  so  much  in  the  habit  of  asking  his 
advice,  he  could  not  fix  upon  one  individual  with 
certainty." 

As  the  officer  paused,  Mr.  Fearing  sank  back,  the 
color  receding  from  his  face  and  lips,  leaving  his  coun 
tenance  of  a  ghastly  pallor. 

Henry  started  forward  and  offered  him  a  glass  of 
water ;  but  he  waved  him  away,  and  pressed  his  hands 
tightly  upon  his  heart. 

The  officer  rose  to  take  leave,  but  waited  a  moment, 
as  if  wishing  to  add  a  word  to  what  he  had  already 
said.  Mr.  Feariug's  distress,  however,  prevented,  and, 
motioning  Henry  to  the  door,  he  said,  "  I  have  thought 
it  barely  possible  that  your  sister  may  have  regretted 
her  hasty  step,  and  returned  in  the  next  train  to  New 
York.  Have  you  no  friends  with  whom  she  would  be 
likely  to  seek  protection  ?  " 

"  A  capital  idea  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "  What 
steps  would  you  advise?" 

"  To  send  at  once  to  each  and  every  house  where  her 
more  intimate  friends  reside." 

"  But  this  would  give  publicity  to  her  flight." 

"  Which  cannot  possibly  be  avoided,"  returned  the 
officer,  emphatically.  "  If  this  does  not  bring  her  to 
light,  advertising  must  be  resorted  to." 

Late  in  the  evening  Dr.  M called,  and  found 

Mr.  Fearing  in  a  dangerous  condition.  He  ordered 
powerful  draughts  to  the  feet,  and  quieting  powders 
repeated  until  sleep  was  induced.  It  was  really  pain 
ful  to  see  this  strong  man  submitting  so  passively  to 


142  JULIETTE. 

the  will  of  others.  At  first  he  seemed  surprised  that 
his  son  should  assume  so  much  authority ;  but  after  a 
while  was  uneasy  when  the  young  man  left  the  room. 

The  next  day  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Fearing  was  to  be 
attended,  and  Henry  much  wished  to  hear  the  result 


of  the  search  in  Boston  before  starting  for  H . 

There  was  no  telegram,  however,  and  the  officer  left 
in  the  early  train  for  that  city,  having  ascertained  that 
Miss  Fearing  was  not  visiting  any  of  her  friends  in 
New  York.  The  next  day  he  and  his  associate  re 
turned,  wholly  without  success  ;  when,  after  consulta 
tion  with  Dr.  Morrison,  who  had  come  to  the  city  with 
Henry  immediately  after  the  funeral,  the  latter  pro 
ceeded  to  advertise  in  all  the  public  journals. 

The  poor  distressed  father  was  by  this  time  sunk  so 
low  that  fears  began  to  be  entertained  for  his  life.  His 
bereaved  father  left  the  new-made  grave  of  his  de 
ceased  wife  and  came  to  weep  by  the  couch  of  his  son. 

Once  when  they  were  alone,  the  distracted  man 
gazed  earnestly  in  his  father's  face,  and  with  a  cry  of 
horror,  exclaimed,  "  I  have  killed  her  !  I  have  killed 
her  !  "  And,  indeed,  terrible  suspicions ^too  vague  and 
dreadful  to  be  put  into  words,  began  to  assume  an 
awful  reality,  as  messengers  were  despatched  to  the 
dead-house  by  the  chief  of  police.  This  gentleman 
pursued  the  search  with  praiseworthy  shrewdness  and 
zeal,  until  convinced  that  it  was  wholly  useless.  As  it 
was  now  a  week  since  Juliette's  departure,  her  body,  in 
case  it  had  been  recovered,  must  have  been  buried- long 
ago ;  and  it  was  by  this  time  beyond  recognition. 


JULIETTE.  143 

Dr.  M ,  who   greatly   feared   the   result  of  this 

announcement,  was  gratified,  though  astonished,  to 
observe  that  from  this  hour  his  patient  began  slowly  to 
recover  strength.  Juliette  deceased,  which  he  had  at 
last  convinced  himself  must  be  the  case,  was  not  half 
so  terrible  to  his  imagination  as  Juliette  living  in 
poverty  or  want. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  he  announced  his  intention 
of  sailing  at  once  for  Europe.  The  house  and  furni 
ture  were  let  for  two  years,  the  servants  dismissed ; 
and,  with  the  impatience  which  was  natural  to  him,  after 
his  plans  were  formed,  Mr.  Fearing  gave  himself  no 
rest  until  he  and  his  son  were  ready  for  embarkation. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  such  events  transpiring  in 
the  very  midst  of  the  aristocracy  of  New  York  society, 
should  pass  without  creating  excitement  and  comment. 
From  time  to  time  certain  articles,  cautiously  worded, 
appeared  in  the  daily  press,  hinting  at  the  probable 
causes  of  the  young  lady's  sudden  absence  ;  but  these 
were  carefully  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  the  dis 
tressed  father,  by  the  watchful  care  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Morrison,  who  never  left  the  bereaved  husband  of  their 
Juliette  until  he  and  his  son  were  safely  on  board  the 
Astracan,  bound  for  Liverpool. 

At  this  time  it  was  nearly  two  months  since  the  de 
cease  of  Mrs.  Horace  Fearing,  and  the  sad  events  so 
closely  following  it ;  but  these  months  had  not  passed 
without  effecting  a  great  change  both  in  her  son  and 
grandson.  Mr.  Edward  Fearing  looked  at  least  ten 
years  older,  and  there  was  an  appearance  of  subdued 


144  JULIETTE. 

grief  upon  his  countenance  never  observed  there  be 
fore.  His  words  were  few,  but  they  were  kind,  and 
often  showed  that  they  came  from  an  aching  heart.  He 
clung  to  his  son,  and  seemed  to  depend  so  much  upon 
his  affection  for  all  the  comfort  that  remained  to  him, 
that  Henry  found  it  far  easier  than  he  had  supposed  to 
give  up  the  life  of  dissipation,  the  pleasures  of  which 
stimulated  but  never  satisfied  his  unhallowed  desires 
and  appetites.  In  his  eye,  formerly  so  bloodshot  and 
blurred,  now  shone  the  commencement  of  manly  pur 
pose.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  at  times,  an  almost  irre 
sistible  craving  for  strong  drink ;  but  his  kind  friend, 
Dr.  Morrison,  assured  him  that  this  thirst  would  be 
come  less  frequent  the  longer  he  abstained  from  grati 
fying  it,  and  pointed  to  present  experience  to  prove 
that  he  was  already  happier,  as  well  as  in  better 
health,  than  when  involved  in  the  whirl  of  sensual  in 
dulgence. 

During  this  period  several  letters  had  been  received 
from  Horace,  some  of  them  directed  to  Juliette.  He 
was  unceasingly  earnest  in  his  demands  for  intelligence 
from  his  sister,  as  not  one  word  respecting  her  had 
transpired  in  their  correspondence.  But  no  one  had 
the  heart  to  inform  him  that  henceforth  she  was  to  be 
considered  as  much  lost  to  her  friends  as  the  lady 
whom  he  styled  grandmother,  though  the  place  of  her 
sepulchre  no  one  knew. 

In  that  vast  city  there  were  two  hearts  that  ached 
bitterly  at  this  most  sad  result  of  their  counsels. 
These  were  the  Reverend  Dr.  A and  Mrs.  Ward 


JULIETTE.  145 

Folsora.  Though  neither  of  them  doubted  that, 
whether  living  or  dead,  the  persecuted  girl  would 
never  cease  to  be  grateful  that  she  had  been  enabled 
by  divine  grace  to  forsake  father  and  mother,  houses 
and  lands,  for  the  Son  of  man's  sake,  knowing  that 
her  reward  would  be  great  in  heaven  ;  yet  they  wept 
tears  of  sorrow  at  her  untimely  fate. 
13 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  The  grief  that  on  my  spirit  preys, 

That  rends  my  heart,  that  checks  my  tongue, 
I  fear  will  last  me  all  my  days, 
But  feel  it  will  not  last  me  long." 

BUT  was  the  lovely  girl  really  deceased?  Had 
she  been  called  to  offer  up  her  young  life  a  sacri 
fice  to  her  ungodly  father's  bitter  prejudices?  Let  us 
go  back  to  the  hour  when  she  fled  from  further  tempta 
tion,  fearing  lest  in  her  weakness  she  might  be  over 
come,  and  thus  virtually  deny  her  Saviour. 

She  had  chosen  the  Harlem  cars  simply  because  it 
was  the  route  she  had  last  travelled  with  her  father, 

and  led  through  D ,  where  Mrs.  Osborn's  school 

was  located. 

Glancing  timidly  around  among  the  passengers,  her 
attention  was  arrested  by  two  modest-looking  girls 
who  occupied  the  seat  before  her.  From  their  conver 
sation  she  learned  that  they  had  been  away  at  school 
for  six  months,  and  were  returning  home  for  the  first 
time.  Their  cheerful  anticipations  of  the  cordial  wel 
come  they  should  receive  from  father,  mother,  brother, 
and  a  certain  young  man  by  the  name  of  Dudley 
Houghton,  smote  upon  the  heart  of  the  sorrowing 

146 


JULIETTE.  147 

Juliette,  with  a  keen  pang.  Tears  gushed  to  her  eyes, 
at  the  bitter  thought,  "  I  have  no  friends  to  welcome 
me."  She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  breast  to  stop  its 
wild  beating.  "  Where  am  I  going?  "  she  asked  her 
self,  in  an  agony  of  emotion.  "  Alas  !  alas  !  I  am  a 
poor,  homeless  wanderer,  an  'outcast  for  my  Saviour's 
sake." 

A  low  groan  caused  the  young  girls  to  turn  around 
just  in  time  to  see  that  their  fellow-passenger  was 
fainting. 

In  one  moment  all  was  confusion  and  excitement. 
One  gentleman  rushed  to  the  next  car  to  summon  the 
conductor,  while  the  ladies  searched  their  pockets  for 
salts  or  cologne. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  Juliette  revived,  not 
withstanding  the  vigorous  fanning  and  chafing  of  her 
hands  by  her  attentive  friends ;  and  then  she  found 
herself  leaning  against  the  shoulder  of  an  elderly  lady, 
while  the  young  girls  who  had  attracted  her  attention 
wTere  sitting  opposite,  and  tenderly  holding  her  hands. 

As  soon  as  she  could  talk,  they  were-  very  earnest  to 
know  the  cause  of  her  sudden  illness.  "  Was  it  the 
close  air  of  the  cars  ?  "  They  would  open  the  windows  ; 
though  the  lady  at  her  side  had  objected  until  she 
were  better. 

Poor  Juliette,  unused  to  equivocation,  could  only 
sigh  and  shake. her  head;  but  as  they  thoughtlessly 
urged  their  inquiries,  and  volunteered  everything  in 
their  power  for  her  relief,  she  said,  at  length,  "I  have 


148  JULIETTE. 

been  very  ill,  and  I  suppose  I  am  not  so  strong  as  I 
hoped." 

"How  far  are  you  going?"  inquired  the  one  called 
Maria. 

Juliette  had  heard  them  mention  Stamford  as  their 
native  place,  and  with  a  sudden  impulse  named  it  as 
her  destination. 

Maria  glanced  at  her  sister,  and  then  said,  "How 
lucky  !  We  are  going  there,  too.  Have  you  friends  in 
Stamford?" 

"No,"  said  the  young  girl,  in  a  sad  tone  ;  "I  am  an 
entire  stranger  there.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  of  some 
quiet  place  where  I  can  board  until  I  can  arrange  my 
plans." 

"  Why  can't  she  come  with  us  ? "  eagerly  inquired 
Susan,  the  younger  girl.  "  I'm  sure  she  is  not  well 
enough  to  go  among  strangers.  Mother  wont  object, 
I  know." 

Maria  hesitated  a  moment,  but  meeting  Juliette's 
eyes  fixed  upon  hers  with  such  a  wistful  expression  of 
entreaty,  she  answered,  "Yes,  so  she  shall." 

How  little  these  artless  school-girls  could  realize  the 
relief  these  words  brought  to  their  new  companion. 
With  an  impulsive  motion  she  caught  Susan's  hand, 
and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  while  she  inwardly  acknowl-, 
edged  the  watchful  care  of  her  heavenly  Father  in  thus 
ordering  her  steps. 

"  Have  you  much  baggage  ?  "  inquired  the  practical 
Maria. 

"  Only  one  trunk,"  said  Juliette. 


JULIETTE.  149 

"Some  one  will  come  for  us  in  the  wagon,"  she  con 
tinued,  in  an  apologizing  tone  ;  "  I  was  only  thinking 
how  we  could  get  all  our  trunks  home." 

"  Oh,  we'll  manage  somehow  ! "  exclaimed  Susan. 
"And  if  we  can't  get  it  all  in,  there's  my  largest  trunk 
I  sha'n't  need  for  a  week.  Father  or  one  of  the  men 
come  to  the  depot  every  day  or  two." 

"Only  two  stations  more,"  responded  her  sister, 
gazing  eagerly  from  the  window. 

"Do  you  feel  better,  dear?"  inquired  the  old. lady, 
turning  to  face  her  young  companion.  "  I  am  a  little 
deaf,"  she  added,  as  Juliette  thanked  her,  and  said  she 
was  quite  well. 

"Yes,  the  color  has  come  back  to  your  lips;  "  and 
she  patted  the  pale  cheek  affectionately. 

"  Stamford ! "  shouted  the  conductor,  putting  his 
head  within  the  door. 

The  girls  started  to  their  feet  and  hastily  took  down 
their  carpet-bags  from  the  rack.  "Here,  let  me  carry 
yours,  too,"  cried  Susan,  catching  the  more  stylish  one 
from  Juliette's  hands.  "  You  run  and  see  to  the  bag 
gage,  Maria,  and  I'll  find  father.  Have  you  a  check 
for  your  trunk,  Miss " 

"  My  name  is  Juliette  Edwards,"  responded  the 
young  girl,  her  cheeks  burning  as  she  put  her  check 
into  Susan's  hands. 

An  honest-looking  farmer  stood  near  a  large  covered 
wagon,  his  eyes  fixed  eagerly  upon  the  few  passengers 
who  alighted  from  the  cars. 

13* 


150  JULIETTE. 

"  There's  father ! "  exclaimed  Susan,  running  toward 
him,  followed  by  Juliette  at  a  short  distance. 

"How  de  do,  child?"  said  he,  giving  her  a  loud 
kiss.  "Where's  Maria?" 

"She's  seeing  to  the  trunks."  The  young  girl  ap 
proached  nearer,  and  said  a  few  earnest  words  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  That's  right,"  he  answered  heartily. 

Susan  then  led  Juliette  forward  and  introduced  her. 

"Sorry  to  hear  you've  been  sick,  miss,"  said  he, 
with  his  honest,  friendly  voice.  "We'll  cure  you  up, 
though,  and  put  a  little  color  into  your  cheeks.  Here 
Susan,  you  stand  by  the  horse,  and  I'll  go  and  see 
what's  got  into  Maria." 

At  this  moment  the  young  girl'came  in  sight,  walk 
ing  leisurely  by  the  side  of  a  young  man.  They  were 
so  earnest  in  conversation  that  they  did  not  notice  the 
others.  Susan  laughingly  approached  them.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Dudley?"'  she  asked.  She  then  introduced 
Miss  Edwards,  and  presently  inquired,  "  Are  you  going 
by  the  farm  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  coloring  a  little.  "  I  was  down 
this  way  with  our  store  wagon,  and  I  told  your  sister 
if  she  would  ride  with  me  I'd  be  happy  to  take  her 
home." 

The  merry  girl  glanced  at  her  sister,  whose  face  was 
suffused  with  blushes.  "  Dudley  will  take  my  trunks," 
she  said.  "The  one  belonging  to  Miss  Edwards  was 
checked  for  New  Haven,  and  had  to  go  on  ;  but  Dud 
ley  found  a  friend  in  the  cars,  who  promised  to  see  it 


JULIETTE.  151 

taken  out  and  sent  back  by  the  next  train ;  so  there 
will  be  room  for  all." 

The  young  man  insisted,  however,  upon  taking  all 
the  baggage,  which  he  could  well  stow  into  the  back 
part  of  his  express  wagon,  and  soon  drove  gayly  off 
with  his  Maria  by  his  side.  In  the  covered  wagon  Ju 
liette  occupied  the  back  seat,  numerous  .packages  from 
the  store  being  piled  up  by  her  side,  while  Susan  sat 
in  front  with  her  father,  and  asked  twenty  questions 
about  mother,  James,  and  "home,  without  giving  him 
time  to  answer. 

It  was  more  than  two  miles  from  the  depot  to  Mr. 
Smith's  farm  ;  but  the  country  looked  beautifully  ;  the 
peach-trees  were  full  of  blossoms,  and  in  front  of 
every  house  was  a  neat  bed  of  flowers. 

"  The  fields  did  laugh ;  the  flowers  did  freshly  spring; 

The  trees  did  bud,  and  early  blossoms  bore, 
And  all  the  choir  of  birds  did  sweetly  sing." 

Juliette's  heart  echoed  Susan's  earnest,  "  Oh,  how 
glad  I  am  to  be  in  the  country  again  !  "  Slie  liked  all 
she  had  seen  of  her  new  friends,  and  thought,  if  the 
mother  proved  as  cordial  in  her  welcome  as  her  good 
husband  had  been,  she  should  be  content  to  remain 
with  them  as  long  as  her  funds  would  permit. 

At  last  the  wagon  turned  up  in  front  of  a  comfort 
able  farm-house,  the  sound  of  the  wheels  bringing 
mother  and  brother  to  the  door.  Shading  her  eyes 
from  the  sun,  the  woman  gazed  earnestly  into  the  car- 


152  JULIETTE. 

riage.  "That's  our  Susie,"  she  said  to  her  son;  "but 
who's  the  other?" 

"  There's  Maria  with  Dudley,"  shouted  James  Smith, 
just  as  the  first-comers  stopped  at  the  door.  His 
hearty,  rather  boisterous  laugh  ceased  instantly  as  he 
caught  sight  of  the  pale  face  on  the  back  seat.  With 
a  deep  blush  he  returned  Susan's  sisterly  kiss,  and  then 
as  she  said,  turning  toward  Juliette,  "This  is  my 
brother,  Miss  Edwards,"  he  made  an  awkward  bow, 
and  retreated  behind  his  mother. 

Throwing  the  reins  over  the  back  of  the  horse,  Mr. 
Smith  took  Juliette's  hand  and  led  her  toward  his 
wife.  "Here  is  a  poor,  delicate  little  flower,"  he  said, 
"  which  I  have  brought  for  you  to  tend.  I'll  warrant, 
under  your  care,  the  lily  will  shortly  turn  into  arose." 

A  keen,  searching  glance  on  one  side,  and  an  appeal 
ing,  wistful  earnestness  on  the  other,  and  the  homeless 
wanderer  was  folded  tenderly  in  the  mother's  embrace. 

Oh,  what  a  rush  of  grateful  joy  swelled  her  breast 
almost  to  bursting  !  "  How  safe  it  is  to  trust  in  God  ! " 
was  the  language  of  her  heart.  "  I  went  out,  not 
knowing  whither  I  went ;  but  He  has  led  me  to  this 
place." 

While  the  trunks  were  being  taken  from  the  wagon, 
Susan  began  to  joke  Maria  about  her  ride.  Dudley, 
though  with  a  heightened  color,  stopped  her  by  say 
ing,  "I  tried  to  persuade  the  conductor  to  allow  Miss 
Edwards'  trunk  to  be  taken  out.  It  was  put  in  with 
the  New  Haven  baggage.  I  insisted  that  we  could 
not  be  answerable  for  his  mistakes ;  but  it  will  be 


JULIETTE.  153 

back  this  evening,  and  I'll  see  that  it's  brought  here 
safely." 

"It  was  marked  for  New  Haven,  I  suppose,"  ex 
claimed  Juliette,  "  and  my  ticket  was  for  that  place. 
I  am  sorry  to  give  so  much  trouble,  but  I  have  never 
travelled  alone  before,  and  I  didn't  understand  about 
the  stations." 

Her  manner  was  slightly  embarrassed  as  she  realized 
that  though  this  was  truth,  it  was  not  the  whole  truth. 

"Come  upstairs,"  called  Susan,  gayly.  "  I'll  show 
you  where  to  put  your  things.  Mother !  she'll  go  in 
the  blue  room,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  dear,  I'll  come  presently,  and  see  that  all  is 
in  order." 

When  they  were  alone  in  their  room,  the  impulsive 
girl  threw  her  bonnet  and  mantilla  on  the  bed,  and, 
putting  her  arm  around  Juliette's  neck,  kissed  her  af 
fectionately.  "Oh,  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  as  the 
young  girl  took  off  her  bonnet,  disclosing  her  soft, 
dark  curls ;  "  how  funny  you  do  look  !  just  like  a  little 
boy!" 

"My  hair  was  cut  short  when  I  was  sick,"  returned 
the  other.  "I  had  a  brain  fever.  I  hardly  know  what 
to  do  with  my  tresses  now." 

"  I'd  give  the  world  if  mine  curled  so  !  "  exclaimed 
Susan,  decidedly.  "Why,  I'd  have  it  cut  off  in  a 
minute,  if  I  thought  'twould  look  so  sweetly." 

Mrs.  Smith,  who  had  entered  while  they  were  talk 
ing,  laid  her  hand  softly  on  the  silky  locks,  and  was 
much  surprised  when  the  grateful  girl  caught  it  and 


154  JULIETTE. 

pressed  it  warmly  between  her  own.  The  good  wo 
man  had  waited  below  to  ascertain  something  more  of 
the  young  stranger,  and  Maria  eagerly  communicated 
what  had  passed  in  the  cars. 

"That's  all  I  know,"  she  added,  "and  I  shouldn't 
have  ventured  to  bring  her  home  if  Susan  hadn't  been 
so  earnest  about  it." 

Mrs.  Smith  turned  an  anxious  glance  upon  her  hus 
band,  but  her  face  brightened  again,  as  he  replied, 
"  Take  my  word  for  it,  wife,  she  may  have  been  im 
prudent,  but  she  isn't  wicked  ;  not  while  she  can  look 
you  straight  in  the  face  with  those  truth-telling  eyes. 
When  she  clung  so  lovingly  to  you,  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  of  the  good  verse,  'Be  not  forgetful  to  enter 
tain  strangers,  for  thereby  some  have  entertained 
angels  unawares.' " 

"  If  you  would  like  to  take  off  your  riding-dress, 
Miss  Edwards,"  exclaimed  Susan,  beginning  to  disrobe 
herself,  "I  can  lend  you  a  wrapper  till  your  trunk 
comes.  You're  such  a  tiny  thing  nothing  else  of  mine 
will  fit  you.  For  my  part,  I'm  so  warm  I  mean  to 
take  a  good  bath." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Juliette,  warmly;  "but  I 
think  I  shall  not  be  uncomfortable.  I  shall  grow  cooler 
while  I  wash  and  arrange  my  hair." 

"Not  a  very  serious  job,  that,"  returned  Susan,  gay- 
ly",  twining  her  finger  through  one  of  the  short  curls. 
"But  I  must  run  to  my  own  room,  to  be  ready  for 
dinner.  I  hope,  mother,  you've  got  something  real 
good ;  I'm  dreadfully  hungry.  Miss  Edwards,  I  shall 


JULIETTE.  155 

be  right  in  here ;  if  you  want  anything,  please  sing 
out." 

"Call  me  Juliette,  please,"  responded  the  young 
girl,  smiling  at  the  gay,  easy  tone  of  her  companion. 
To  her  mind,  depressed  by  her  heavy  trials,  there  was 
something  inexpressibly  charming  in  Susan's  cordial 
gayety.  Carefully  closing  and  bolting  the  door  to  her 
room,  it  occupied  but  a  few  moments  to  bathe  her  face, 
neck,  and  arms ;  and  then  resuming  her  travelling 
habit,  she  bowed  her  knee  in  humble  gratitude  to  her 
Almighty  Friend,  who  thus  far  had  fulfilled  his  promise 
to  her,  and  ordered  all  things  well.  "With  a  heart 
swelling  with  emotion,  she  implored  blessings  on  the 
kind  friends  who  had  so  cordially  received  a  stranger 
to  their  home,  and  prayed  that  her  residence  among 
them  might  be  productive  of  great  good. 

In  the  mean  time,  Maria  and  Dudley  had  parted  for 
a  few  hours,  and  the  young  lady  had  joined  her  mother 
and  sister  in  the  room  next  to  Juliette's.  While  the 
latter  was  arranging  her  toilet,  she  could  distinctly 
hear  the  sound  of  their  voices,  as  they  chattered  mer 
rily  together. 

"  Has  Dudley  gone  ?  "  inquired  Susan.  "  It  was  real 
good  of  him  to  meet  us  at  the  depot." 

"I  thought  it  likely  he  would  go,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Smith,  "he  asked  James  so  particularly  about  the 
time  you  were  expected."  She  smiled  as  she  glanced 
at  Maria's  blushing  face,  but  immediately  added,  "I 
wish  we  knew  something  more  of  Miss  Edwards, 
though  I  think  that  she  looks  honest  and  truthful." 


156  JULIETTE. 

The  good  woman  felt  a  praiseworthy  anxiety  that 
her  daughters  should  not  be  brought  into  intimate  ac 
quaintance  with  one  whose  society  might  prove  injuri 
ous,  especially  with  one  whose  prepossessing  appear 
ance  and  manners  might  give  her  an  undue  influence 
over  them. 

Susan  began  to  talk  of  their  school  and  the  teachers, 
gayly  humming  a  line  of  her  favorite  song,  — 

"  There's  no  place  like  home." 

But  Maria,  who  was  hanging  her  travelling  dress 
in  the  closet,  silenced  her  sister  by  placing  her  finger 
on  her  lips,  and  beckoning  her  mother  to  the  closet 
door. 

From  this  place,  separated  from  the  next  room  only 
by  a  thin  partition,  they  could  hear  the  low  voice  of 
Juliette,  uttering  her  prayer  in  the  ear  of  her  kind 
Father  in  heaven.  Standing  motionless  for  a  moment, 
the  mother's  eye  glistened  through  a  tear,  while  Susan's 
cheek  was  suffused  with  a  heightened  glow,  and  then 
each,  with  a  heart  subdued  by  the  influence  of  this 
pious  act,  returned  to  her  own  duties. 

The  dinner-bell  called  Juliette  from  the  window, 
where  she  had  been  feasting  her  eyes  upon  the  lovely, 
quiet  scene  before  her.  The  house  stood  only  a  few 
feet  back  from  the  road,  but  directly  beyond  was  a 
beautiful  orchard  of  trees,  thickly  covered  with  their  va 
riously  hued  blossoms,  while  still  further  on  a  lo\v  range 
of  hills  skirted  the  horizon. 


JULIETTE.  157 

"  'Twas  a  goodly  scene. 
Ton  river,  like  a  silvery  snake,  lays  out 
His  coil  i'  th'  sunshine  lovingly, — it  breathes 
Of  freshness  in  this  lap  of  flowery  meadows." 

"  Come,  Juliette  ! "  cried  Susan,  after  a  low  tap  at  the 
door.  "  Father  is  one  of  the  punctual  sort.  We  must 
hurry  downstairs.  Come,  a  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

"I  was  scarcely  thinking  at  all,"  returned  the  young 
lady,  with  a  smile.  "I  was  enjoying  your  beautiful 
home." 

The  family  were  gathered  about  the  table  as  they 
entered,  and  while  all  stood  behind  their  chairs,  Mr. 
Smith  solemnly  invoked  a  blessing  on  their  food. 

This  was  a  novel  mode  to  the  young  stranger,  whose 
heart  wanned  more  fondly  toward  her  new  friends, 
when  she  found  them  loving  her  Saviour.  Since  her 
illness  she  had  had  little  appetite ;  but  now  the  simple 
country  fare,  so  deliciously  cooked  by  the  matron's  own 
hand,  relished  so  agreeably  that  it  would  have  been 
easy  for  her  to  echo  Susan's  hearty  exclamation,  "  O 
mother,  how  good  your  food  does  taste  I"  Maria, 
though  a  pleasant  girl,  free  from  affectation,  did  not 
impress  our  heroine  so  favorably  as  the  free,  outspoken 
Susan.  There  was  a  cordiality  and  sincerity  about 
the  latter  which  caused  a  warm  glow  in  the  heart. 
"Perhaps,  though,  it  may  be,"  thought  Juliette,  "that 
Maria's  mind  is  absorbed  with  her  friend  Dudley." 

14 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"Here  too  dwelt  simple  truth;  plain  innocence; 
Unsullied  beauty;  sound,  unbroken  youth, 
Patient  of  labor,  with  a  little  pleas'd ; 
Health  ever  blooming;  unambitious  toil; 
Calm  contemplation,  and  poetic  ease." 

AFTER  dinner  the  three  girls  •  accompanied  by 
their  brother  wandered  all  over  the  farm,  visited 
the  bossies  in  their  pen,  the  hens  in  their  neat  rows  of 
coops,  where  Juliette  was  delighted  with  the  soft,  downy 
chickens,  and  even  the  litter  of  young  pigs  in  the  sty. 

James,  with  many  blushes,  answered  all  the  ques 
tions  which  the  city  girl  in  her  ignorance  asked,  and 
did  not  laugh  at  them  as  his  sisters  did.  Indeed,  ho 
watched  every  graceful  motion  of  their  young  visitor 
with  such  evident  pleasure  that  Susan  could  not  restrain 
her  love  of  fun,  and  playfully  pinching  his  arm  whis 
pered,  "Isn't  she  lovely?  You  must  thank  me  for 
bringing  her  home." 

"Do  you  like  bread  and  milk?"  inquired  the  merry 
girl,  as  after  a  few  hours  they  sat  around  the  tea-table. 

"I  have  never  eaten  any,"  was  Juliette's  smiling 
reply. 

"I  thought  so  by  the  looks  of  your  pale  cheeks," 
remarked  the  farmer,  playfully.  "  Wife,  pour  out  some 

158 


JULIETTE.  159 

milk  in  a  bowl,  and  don't  be  sparing  of  the  cream,  either. 
I  want  to  see  her  looking  rosy,  like  our  country  girls. 
Now  break  into  it  some  of  that  sweet  brown  bread, 

r 

and  you'll  find  it  delicious." 

"How  soon  will  the  honeycombs  be  ripe,  father?" 
asked  Maria.  "I  always  want  baked  sweet  apples  in 
my  milk." 

"By  the  last  of  August,  child.  The  tree  hangs  full 
of  blossoms." 

Juliette  made  her  entire  supper  of  bread  and  milk, 
and  thought  she  should  enjoy  such  fare  for  a  month ; 
though  the  kind  mother  pressed  upon  her  at  least  a 
taste  of  the  preserved  cherries,  and  the  light  home 
made  cake. 

"I  shouldn't  think  you'd  eaten  anything  for  a  week," 
muttered  James  in  his  sister's  ear,  as  she  allowed  her 
father  to  heap  tarts  and  cake  on  her  plate. 

"  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  should  like  to  have  you 
away  at  boarding-school  for  six  months,  where  they 
only  have  dry  bread  and  bad  butter,  with  little  thin 
slices  of  cake.  I  guess  you'd  be  thankful  to  come  home 
to  mother's  fare." 

"I'm  thankful  without  going,  Susy;  but  I  don't 
believe  you  had  so  bad  a  time  as  that." 

"  No,"  said  Maria,  laughing  ;  "  we  lived  well  enough  ; 
but  mother's  butter  is  sweeter  than  anybody's  else." 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  Susy  brought  her  father 
the  Bible,  who  read  without  rising  from  the  table,  and 
then  all  knelt  at  the  family  altar.  Mr.  Smith  prayed 
like  one  who  was  accustomed  to  pour  out  his  soul 


160  JULIETTE. 

before  God.  His  petitions  were  simple,  but  fervent, 
and  touched  the  hearts  of  the  whole  circle  with  a  con 
viction  of  their  sincerity. 

Juliette  sobbed  like  a  child,  but  her  tears  were  not 
caused  by  sorrow ;  no,  they  welled  up  from  a  heart 
overflowing  with  gratitude  and  praise.  She  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  uttering  the  sacred  words  which  so 
aptly  expressed  her  own  emotions.  "  I  will  bless  the 
Lord,  who  hath  given  me  counsel ;  because  he  is  at  my 
right  hand,  I  shall  not  be  moved.  The  lines  are  fallen 
unto  me  in  pleasant  places ;  yea,  I  have  a  goodly 
heritage." 

Soon  after  tea,  Dudley  came  driving  to  the  door, 
bringing  Juliette's  trunk.  Having  tied  his  horse  to 
the  post,  James  assisted  him  in  carrying  it  upstairs, 
and  then  the  whole  family  adjourned  to  the  porch,  run 
ning  the  whole  length  of  the  spacious  L.  Presently, 
however,  Susan  exclaimed,  "Father,  I'm  going  to  the 
pasture  for'  the  cows  ! "  and  invited  Juliette  to  accom 
pany  her.  "  I  suppose  I  must  have  a  broad-rimmed 
hat,  if  I'm  to  live  in  the  country,"  returned  the  young 
girl,  playfully  accepting  the  offer  of  Maria's  school  one. 

The  pasture  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house  ; 
but  the  air  was  balmy,  and  Susan  delightfully  merry. 
The  setting  sun  threw  long  shadows  across  the  fields, 
and  over  the  winding  path.  Juliette  was  really  sur 
prised  at  herself  for  her  keen  enjoyment  of  the 
beauties  of  nature.  Everything  around  her,  even  the 
society  of  the  good  farmer  and  his  kind-hearted  wife, 
the  awkward  earnestness  of  James,  the  warm,  though 


JULIETTE.  161 

unexpressed,  attachment  between  Maria  and  Dudley, 
and  the  frank,  naive  manners  of  the  light-hearted 
Susan  served  to  divert  her  thoughts  from  her  own  pe 
culiar  trials.  As  she  retired  to  bed  that  night  she  said 
to  herself,  "  If  I  only  knew  how  my  dear  father  bears 
my  absence,  I  should  be  happy  to  remain  here  forever. 
How  little  I  expected  last  night  to  be  so  delightfully 
situated.  Surely  I  have  reason  to  say  '  The  Lord  is  on 
my  side,  what  can  I  fear?" 

Early  the  next  morning  Susan  entered  her  room  on 
tiptoe  and  waked  her  with  a  kiss.  "  I'm  going  out  to 
the  barn-yard  to  see  father  and  James  milk,"  said  she ; 
"  don't  you  want  to  go,  too  ?  It's  a  splendid  day  ;  "  and 
she  looped  back  the  curtain,  letting  a  flood  of  golden 
light  into  the  chamber. 

The  young  stranger  opened  her  eyes  and  gazed 
wildly  around  the  room.  Her  sleep  had  been  long  and 
profound,  and  she  could  not  at  first  comprehend  where 
she  was.  The  small,  neat  chamber,  with  its  white 
muslin  curtains,  and  sprigs  of  blue  flowers  dotting  the 
walls,  was  so  unlike  her  spacious  apartment,  with  its 
draperies  of  rose-colored  damask  and  embroidered 
lace,  the  lofty  walls  hung  with  gilded  paper,  that  she 
seemed  to  herself  to  be  still  dreaming.  Susan's  merry 
laugh  soon  recalled  her  thoughts,  though  she  rubbed 
her  eyes  sleepily  as  she  said,  "I  thought  I  was  at  home, 
and  Eliza  had  come  to  dress  me.  Yes,  I  should  ad 
mire  to  go,  and  I'll  be  ready  directly,  nearly  as  soon  as 
you  are." 

"I'm  sure,"  exclaimed  Susan,  "I  can't  think  what 
H* 


162  JULIETTE. 

people  do  who  don't  live  on  a  farm.  I  should  die  to 
be  shut  up  between  brick  walls,  and  never  see  the 
green  fields,  nor  the  new-mown  hay." 

"Perhaps  they  have  never  seen  how  beautiful  the 
country  is,"  answered  Juliette,  pleasantly.  "I  was  at 
school  in  the  country  many  years ;  but  I  never  was  on 
a  farm  before." 

"  Good-morning,  sis,"  exclaimed  James,  coming  with 
a  couple  of  large  tin  pails  from  the  house.  "  Good- 
morning,  Miss  Edwards.  You  are  an  early  riser,  I  see." 

"  She  deserves  no  credit  for  that,"  laughed  Susan ; 
"  she  would  have  slept  till  noon  if  I  had  not  had  com 
passion  on  her.  But  I've  taken  her  under  my  pro 
tection,  and  I  mean  to  have  her  breathe  our  fresh 
morning  air.  Do  you  want  to  see  me  milk,  Juliette?  " 

Our  heroine  stared.  "I  don't  believe  you  can,"  said 
she. 

Susan  advanced  to  her  brother,  but  he  waved  her 
back.  "Not  this  one,  sis,  she's  apt  to  kick;  you  may 
milk  Daisy,  and  welcome."  But  before  he  was  ready, 
she  ran  to  the  house  for  some  dough  which  she  scat 
tered  plentifully  about  in  front  of  the  small  coops  for 
the  chickens. 

"  Are  you  going  to  raise  this  calf?  "  she  presently 
shouted  from  the  barn.  "It's  too  pretty  to  kill.  Oh, 
how  I  used  to  cry,"  she  said,  turning  to  her  com 
panion,  "  when  the  butcher  came  for  the  calf,  or  for  a 
darling  lamb  !  I  would  not  speak  to  him  for  weeks 
afterward,  except  to  call  him  an  ugly,  cruel  man. 
Wait  here  a  minute,  Juliette,  I'm  going  up  that  ladder 


JULIETTE.  163 

to  the  hay-mow,  for  I  believe  there  is  a  nest  of  eggs 
there.  I  saw  a  hen  fly  down  last  night ;"  and,  laughing 
at  Juliette's  earnest  remonstrance,  she  quickly  began  to 
ascend. 

"Ha,  Susy,  up  to  your  old  tricks,  hey!"  and  the 
farmer  came  into  the  barn,  followed  by  Maria. 

The  young  girl  was  trying  to  steady  the  ladder  with 
her  tiny  hands ;  but  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  laugh,  took  her 
place. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  dear  me  ! "  came  a  smothered  voice 
through  the  hay;  "here's  fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen, 
new-laid  eggs.  I'm  afraid  I  shall  break  them  coming 
down, — I  want  to  ask  mother  to  cook  some  for 
breakfast."  Holding  them  carefully  in  her  apron  she 
slowly  descended  from  her  lofty  height.  "There, 
father,  see  what  you  would  have  lost  if  I  hadn't  come 
home." 

She  looked  so  fresh  and  rosy  that  Juliette  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  give  her  a  kiss,  and  then  they 
walked  into  the  house  together  to  help  mother  about 
the  breakfast. 

"  I'm  right  glad  you're  home,  girls,  for  one  thing," 
remarked  Mrs.  Smith,  about  the  middle  of  the  fore 
noon.  "My  caps  all  need  doing  up.  You  know  I 
never  had  any  taste  at  millinery." 

"If  you'll  starch  them,"  whispered  Juliette,  "I'll 
help  you  trim  them  ;  I  should  like  to." 

"  No,  don't  you  go  to  troubling  yourself,"  said  Mrs. 
Smith,  as  Susy  gayly  repeated  the  remark. 

"Perhaps  if  I  do  them  to  suit  you,  Susan  will  let  me 


164  JULIETTE. 

help  her  about  her  other  work,"  added  Juliette,  with  a 
rosy  blush. 

:f  You  may  do  anything  you  please,  child,  while 
you're  here,"  returned  the  good  woman,  tenderly. 

On  the  Sabbath,  Juliette  accompanied  the  family  to 
church,  Susan  riding  with  her  brother  in  the  farm- 
wagon.  The  services  were  solemn  and  impressive. 
During  the  short  intermission,  as  the  young  girl  sat 
with  Mrs.  Smith  in  the  pew,  the  thought  occurred  to 
her  that  here  she  might  join  the  people  of  God,  and 
commemorate  his  dying  love.  She  determined  to  take 
an  opportunity  that  very  evening  and  consult  her  kind 
friends  upon  the  subject,  though  she  knew  that  it 
would  involve  a  necessity  of  relating  to  them,  in  brief, 
the  trials  through  which  she  had  passed. 

In  the  mean  time  Maria  and  Susan  had  joined  their 
old  class  in  the  Sabbath  school,  from  which  they  ad 
journed  to  the  singing  seats,  Dudley  Houghtou  being 
leader  of  the  choir. 

"How  inquisitive  people  are  !"  exclaimed  Susan,  as 
they  took  their  places  at  their  late  dinner  on  their  re 
turn  from  church.  "  Ever  so  many  people  asked  me 
who  you  were,  Juliette.  You  seem  to  have  attracted 
a  great  deal  of  attention." 

"What  did  you  answer?  "  inquired  the  young  girl, 
her  face  growing  very  pale. 

ft  I  told  the  truth,  that  you  were  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  returned  with  me  when  I  came  from  school." 

"  I  said  the  same,"  repeated  James,  with  a  height- 


JULIETTE.  165 

ened  color.  MMr.  Pond,  the  depot-master,  asked  me, 
and  two  or  three  others." 

After  dinner,  which,  on  the  Sabbath,  was  after  the  sec 
ond  service,  and  which  was  concluded  before  four  o'clock, 
Juliette,  finding  Mrs.  Smith  reading  in  the  parlor, 
frankly  said,  "  I  want  to  ask  your  advice  about  myself." 

Until  this  time  she  had  never  referred  to  her  own 
situation,  and  her  friends  had  too  much  delicacy  to  in 
trude  upon  her  confidence .  The  good  woman ,  in  truth , 
was  much  pleased  at  the  thought  that  the  mystery  evi 
dently  attaching  itself  to  her  young  visitor  might  be 
solved.  On  the  day  after  her  arrival,  Juliette  had  ex 
pressed  her  wish  to  remain  through  the  summer,  which 
Mr.  Smith  had  agreed  to  at  merely  a  nominal  price. 
Now  she  drew  a  low  ottoman  to  the  good  woman's  feet, 
and,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  related  her  sad  story. 
When  she  came  to  describe  the  meeting  with  her  father 
at  the  time  he  placed  the  alternatives  before  her,  —  a 
luxurious  home,  his  love  and  support  on  one  side,  and 
her  Saviour  on  the  other,  her  sobs  choked  her  utterance. 

Nor  did  she  weep  alone.  Mrs.  Smith  folded  her 
arms  about  her,  as  if  she  would  protect  her  from  all 
coming  danger,  and  with  streaming  eyes  assured  her 
of  their  increased  affection. 

"  Poor  lamb  !  "  she  exclaimed,  tenderly  passing  her 
fingers  over  the  silky  curls ;  K  you  shall  share  with  us 
as  long  as  we  have  a  home.  But,  my  dear,  your  father 
may  relent.  Perhaps  your  firmness  in  doing  your  duty 
may  be  the  very  means  God  is  taking  to  lead  him  to 
the  knowledge  of  himself." 


166  JULIETTE. 

"  Oh,"  sighed  Juliette,  "do  pray  that  it  maybe  so." 
She  then  went  on  to  state  her  wishes  with  regard  to 
professing  Christ,  and  Mrs.  Smith  promised  to  consult 
her  husband  on  the  subject.  She  received  Juliette's 
ready  assent  that  he  should  be  informed  of  her  real 
condition,  but  begged  that  this  knowledge  might,  for 
the  present,  be  confined  to  their  own  breasts. 

Mr.  Allen,  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  was  absent 
for  a  few  weeks,  and  it  was  thought  best  to  defer  the 
application  to  the  church  until  his  return.  In  the  mean 
time  the  young  girl  was  treated  with  increased  cordi 
ality  by  the  family  at  the  farm.  Maria  and  Susan  were 
aware  that  their  parents  had  been  informed  of  Juli 
ette's  earlier  history,  and  saw  that  the  knowledge  added 
to  their  respect  and  affection  for  her.  In  a  few  weeks 
she  had  so  won  upon  them  that  it  would  have  been 
considered  a  great  affliction  to  part  with  her.  She  fol 
lowed  Mrs.  Smith  from  her  dairy  to  the  kitchen,  be 
came  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  butter-making, 
and  the  more  difficult  kinds  of  cooking ;  wandered  at 
pleasure  over  the  farm,  feeding  the  chickens,  who  soon 
learned  to  come  at  her  call ;  accompanied  the  sisters 
in  their  visits  to  their  neighbors,  and  assisted  them  in 
whatever  they  were  engaged. 

Mr.  Smith  taught  a  class  in  the  Sabbath  school,  and 
on  more  than  one  occasion  our  heroine  had  heard  him 
regret  that  he  had  not  a  commentary,  which  would  as 
sist  him  in  preparing  for  the  lesson.  She  tried  to 
devise  a  plan  to  procure  one  for  him,  and  at  last  re 
solved  to  make  a  confidant  of  Dudley,  and  engage  him 


JULIETTE.  167 

to  purchase  the  books  when  he  went  to  New  York. 
Knowing  that  it  might  be  wTeeks  before  she  should  see 
him  alone,  she  frankly  told  Maria  that  it  would  greatly 
oblige  her  if  Dudley  would  do  a  little  business  for  her, 
and  that  she  would  write  on  paper  what  she  wanted. 
She  did  so  ;  and  though  the  other  wondered  not  a  little 
at  this  sudden  friendship  for  her  lover,  who  made  the 
most  of  the  mystery,  and  insisted  upon  a  private  inter 
view  with  Miss  Edwards,  the  frankness  of  her  young 
friend  prevented  any  misunderstanding. 

Two  days  later,  a  large  bundle,  containing  "Henry's 
Commentary,"  in  five  volumes,  was  brought  to  the 
house,  directed  to  Miss  Edwards,  and  thus  the  mystery 
was  explained. 

The  good  farmer  wiped  his  glasses  repeatedly,  before 
he  could  see  to  read  the  little  note  which  she  put  into 
his  hands,  — 

"  MB.  SMITH  :  Dear  Sir,  —  Please  accept  the 
books  accompanying  this,  as  a  token  of  the  gratitude 
of  one  toward  whom  you  and  your  dear  family  so  cor 
dially  exercised  your  hospitality.  '  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in.'" 

"  She  is  a  blessed  child,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  when 
they  were  alone,  "and  shall  always  be  welcome  to  a 
home  as  long  as  we  have  one." 

Nor  was  Dudley  the  confidant  of  Juliette  alone.  On 
one  of  his  trips  to  the  city  he  received  a  secret  com 
mission  from  James,  and  presently  brought  to  the  farm 


168  JULIETTE. 

a  dainty  straw  hat,  tied  with  broad  blue  ribbons,  which 
the  young  farmer  blushingly  declared  would  "fit  no 
head  but  Juliette's." 

The  young  girl  acce  ted  the  pretty  gift  with  so  much 
pleasure,  alleging  that  it  was  exactly  what  she  had 
been  wanting,  that  poor  James  was  obliged  to  leave  the 
room  to  give  vent  to  his  delight.  He  was  a  most  wor 
thy  young  man,  an  earnest,  working  Christian,  acting 
well  his  part  in  the  sphere  which  Providence  had  as 
signed  him.  He  had  a  clear  head,  and  an  honest,  af 
fectionate  heart.  Independent  in  his  views  and  opin 
ions,  he  was  awkward  and  confused  only  in  the  presence 
of  her  he  loved.  Yes,  it  was  no  use  to  try  to  deceive 
himself  longer.  Keenly  susceptible  in  his  nature,  he 
had  found  it  absolutely  impossible  to  remain  two 
months  in  constant  intercourse  with  one  so  lovely  as 
Juliette,  without  lavishing  upon  her  the  best  affections 
of  his  strong  heart. 

True,  this  intimacy  was  not  unmingled  with  pain, 
for  he  had  sense  enough  to  perceive  that  he  was  totally 
unfitted  by  education  and  rank  to  become  the  husband 
of  one  so  delicate  and  refined.  But  what  reasoning 
or  argument  will  ever  induce  an  ardent  lover  to  give 
up  hope  ?  Thus  far  he  had  treated  her  with  the  ten 
derness,  but  not  with  the  frankness,  of  a  brother,  and 
she  had  never  once  suspected  the  nature  or  extent  of 
his  attachment. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"  But  doth  the  exile's  heart  serenely  there 

In  sunshine  dwell  ?    Ah  I  when  was  exile  blest  ? 
When  did  bright  scenes,  clear  heavens,  or  summer  air, 
Chase  from  her  soul  the  fever  of  unrest  ? " 


BUT  was  Juliette  really  as  happy  as  she  seemed  ? 
Did  not  her  heart  yearn  for  her  kindred  ?  Would 
she  not  have  rejoiced  to  exchange  her  present  condition 
for  the  luxuries  of  her  city  home,  the  gayeties  of  fash 
ionable  life  ? 

It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if  thoughts  of  the 
dear  ones  she  had  left  behind  had  not  often  caused  her 
eyes  to  overflow,  and  her  heart  to  beat  painfully  with 
anxious  care.  She  found  it  an  absolute  necessity  to  be 
busily  employed,  or  this  excitement  would  have  preyed 
upon  her  spirits  to  the  injury  of  her  health.  But 
could  she  have  been  assured  that  the  step  she  had  tak 
en,  though  the  very  furnace  of  affliction  it  had  proved, 
could  be  instrumental  of  good  to  her  father  and 
brother,  she  would  have  been  more  than  content  to  re 
main  months  or  years  in  her  present  situation,  trusting 
that  He  in  whose  hands  our  life  and  breath  are,  would 
turn  the  heart  of  her  father  to  herself. 

It  was  strange,  but  true,  that  the  idea  of  his  regret- 

15  169 


170  JULIETTE. 

ting  and  wishing  to  retract  the  cruel  words  he  had 
spoken,  had  not  once  occurred  to  her  mind.  Could  she 
have  been  aware  of  his  hours  of  agony,  and  his  nights 
of  remorse,  —  the  incessant  longing  of  his  heart  to  fold 
her  once  more  to  his  breast,  and  hear  her  pronounce 
words  of  forgiveness,  —  how  quickly,  how  joyfully, 
would  she  have  flown  to  his  side  and  lavished  the 
wealth  of  her  affections  upon  him  ! 

But,  alas,  she  knew  nothing  of  all  this !  The  in 
mates  of  the  farm-house  were  quiet,  orderly  persons, 
who  stayed  at  home,  attending  to  their  own  business  ; 
knowing  little  of  the  world  at  large,  except  what  was 
communicated  through  the  columns  of  the  "  New  York 
Observer,"  which  came  regularly  to  them  the  last  of 
every  week.  Whatever  attention  might  have  been  di 
rected  to  herself  by  the  advertisements  extensively  cir 
culated  throughout  the  country  (and  we  know  that  her 
first  appearance  at  church  did  excite  the  remarks  of 
many  persons)  was  satisfactorily  explained  by  the 
statements  of  the  family  that  she  was  a  friend  who 
accompanied  the  young  ladies  home  on  their  return 
from  school. 

In  addition  to  her  anxiety  for  her  father,  the  thought 
of  Horace  was  scarce  ever  absent  from  her  mind.  His 
form  mingled  in  her  cares  by  day  and  her  dreams  by 
night. 

"  There's  not  an  hour, 

Of  day  or  dreaming  night,  but  I  am  with  thee; 
There's  not  a  wind  but  whispers  of  thy  name, 
And  not  a  flower  that  sleeps  beneath  the  moon, 
But  in  its  hues  and  fragrance  tells  a  tale 
Of  thee." 


JULIETTE.  171 

Sometimes  she  had  such  an  irresistible  longing  to 
hear  from  him  once  more,  —  to  have  his  approval  of 
the  course  she  had  pursued,  —  that  she  resolved  to 
write  Mrs.  Folsom  and  beg  her  to  obtain  information 
of  him,  and  the  place  where  he  might  be  addressed 
abroad.  But  there  wras  a  secret  feeling  of  delicacy 
which  forbade  this.  "If  he  were  my  own  brother,  I 
would  do  so,"  she  repeated,  again  and  again.  "  What 
could  he  mean  by  saying  he  thanked  God  that  he  was 
not  my  brother?" 

Yes,  poor  Juliette  had  many  causes  of  secret  sorrow, 
among  which  the  approbation  of  Mrs.  Folsom,  the  ap 
proval  of  her  kind  pastor,  Dr.  A ,  even  the  opinions 

of  her  fashionable  friends,  were  not  the  least.  She 
knew  that  the  former  would  at  once  suspect  the  reason 
why  she  had  so  suddenly  fled  from  her  home  and 
friends ;  and  they  had  both  of  them  represented  it  as  a 
test  of  her  love  for  her  Saviour  that  she  should  forsake 
all  for  him.  But  among  the  latter  she  was  equally 
aware  that  her  absence  would  cause  excitement  and 
suspicion,  —  that  her  motives  would  be  wholly  misrep 
resented  and  misjudged.  Had  it  not  been  for  her 
childlike  trust  in  the  allotments  of  Providence,  her  in 
creasing  interest  in  her  devotions,  she  might  have  sunk 
under  these  trials,  which  she  kept  so  closely  locked  in 
her  own  breast.  Often,  on  retiring  to  rest,  she  felt  the 
breathings  of  the  divine  Comforter,  and  with  her  whole 
heart  could  repeat  the  beautiful  words,  — " 

"  '  Thy  will  be  done  1 '    In  devious  way 
The  hurrying  stream  of  life  may  run ; 


172  JULIETTE. 

Tet  still  our  grateful  hearts  shall  say, 
'  Thy  will  be  done  I ' 

41 '  Thy  will  be  done ! '    Though  shrouded  o'er 

Our  path  with  gloom,  one  comfort,  one, 
Is  ours;  to  breathe,  while  we  adore, 
1  Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

Then,  as  I  said  before,  every  hour  of  the  day  was 
filled  with  useful  employment  or  recreation .  For  weeks 
she  dared  not  trust  herself  to  sew  except  in  the  presence 
of  some  of  the  family,  lest  her  thoughts  should  take 
wings  and  fly  away,  sometimes  to  the  splendid  mansion 
in  Madison  Square,  and  often  over  the  deep,  blue  sea. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  the  young  girl  when  Mrs. 
Smith  consented  to  confer  with  Mr.  Allen  in  her  be 
half.  She  knew  it  would  be  necessary  to  inform  him 
of  some  parts  of  her  former  history,  and  she  shrank 
from  relating  it  to  one  so  much  a  stranger.  After  this, 
it  was  easy  for  her  to  answer  questions  as  to  .her  per 
sonal  experience  of  the  power  of  religion,  and  her 
readiness  to  accept  Christ  as  her  Saviour. 

The  good- pastor  treated  her  like  a  child-,  and  while 
he  assured  her  they  should  gladly  admit  her  to  the 
church,  he  advised  her  to  make  one  more  dutiful  ap 
peal  to  her  father,  informing  him  of  her  intention  and 
begging  his  blessing.  "  True,"  he  added,  "  his  conduct 
has  been  harsh  and  unfeeling,  as  a  parent,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  hatred  of  religion ;  but  the  Spirit  of 
God  may  have  made  use  of  this  very  event  to  subdue 
his  proud  heart.  At  any  rate,  you  will  show  him  that 
the  religion  you  wish  to  profess,  teaches  you  to  honor 


JULIETTE.  173 

him  in  all  things,  except  where  his  commands  are 
opposed  to  the  will  of  God." 

Juliette  burst  into  tears.  "You  do  not  know  my 
father,"  she  faltered,  trying  to  control  her  voice.  "He 
is  the  most  indulgent  parent  that  a  child  ever  had.  I 
could  scarce  name  a  desire,  but  he  would  find  means 
to  gratify  it;  but  upon  this  one  subject  his  prejudices 
cannot  be  shaken." 

"Do  not  disparage  the  grace  and  mercy  of  God,  my 
child,"  said  the  clergyman,  laying  his  hand  softly  on 
her  head  ;  "his  compassion  is  infinite." 

"Thank  you!  thank  you,  sir!  you  have  given  me 
fresh  courage  to  pray  for  him.  I  will  write  immedi 
ately." 

"That  is  best,  and,  as  our  communion  service  does 
not  occur  for  three  weeks,  you  will  have  abundant  time 
to  receive  an  answer  from  him." 

That  evening  she  retired  to  her  own  room,  and,  after 
an  earnest  prayer  for  divine  guidance,  seated  herself  to 
commence  her  epistle.  But  even  after  she  had  taken 
her  pen  in  hand  she  sat  for  a  long  time  lost  in  reverie. 
"  How  will  my  letter  be  received  ?  "  she  asked  herself. 
"  When  by  my  own  act  I  have  cut  loose  from  the  tie  of 
nature,  will  he  wish  any  further  communication  with 
me?  Oh,  that  my  dear  mother  were  alive!  I  feel 
sure  in  that  case  I  should  never  have  been  forced  to 
this  step  ;  but  how  do  I  know  that  he  is  well,  —  that  he 
is  living  ?  "  At  this  terrible  thought  her  tears  began  to 
flow.  "I  will  not  write,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  will  go  to 
him.  He  may  be  ill  and  need  my  care."  She  sank 

15* 


174  JULIETTE. 

back  again  with  the  terrible  recollection,  "  He  has  cast 
rue  off.  Oh  !  how  could  I  forget  his  dreadful  words, 
'  I  shall  disinherit  you  at  once ;  you  can  no  longer 
have  my  support  and  protection '  ?  "  Deep  sobs  for  a 
time  convulsed  her  whole  frame.  "He  may  relent," 
she  said,  half  unconsciously.  "  Yes,  God's  power  is 
infinite."  Once  more  she  lifted  her  heart  to  him  who 
loves  to  listen  to  the  prayers  of  his  children,  and  then, 
with  a  mind  more  composed,  seated  herself  and  wrote 
as  follows,  — 

\ 

"DEARLY  BELOVED  FATHER,  —  It  is  now  ten  weeks 

since,  in  obedience  to  your  command,  I  made  my  choice 
whom  I  would  serve.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  for  a 
few  hours  there  was  a  dreadful  struggle  in  my  mind 
before  I  could  decide  to  forsake  you,  my  too  indul 
gent  parent,  my  dear  brothers,  the  home  your  love 
had  rendered  so  attractive,  and  follow  alone,  and  by  a 
path  beset  with  trials,  the  footsteps  of  my  meek  and 
lowly  Saviour.  I  knew,  indeed,  my  duty,  but  oh  !  my 
flesh  was  weak.  All  night  I  bathed  my  pillow  with 
my  tears,  and  cried  unto  God  for  help ;  and  he  did 
graciously  appear  for  me.  He  poured  the  balm  of 
consolation  into  my  bleeding  heart ;  he  gave  me 
strength  to  do  his  will.  The  morning  you  left,  I  went 
out  of  my  chamber,  at  the  sound  of  your  voice,  resolved 
if  you  showed  the  least  relenting,  to  throw  myself  at 
your  feet,  and  once  more  plead,  that,  while  I  obeyed  my 
Saviour,  I  might  also  be  permitted  to  perform  the  sweet 
offices  prompted  by  a  daughter's  love.  But,  as  you 


JULIETTE.  175 

will  no  doubt  remember,  you  still  considered  me  diso 
bedient,  undutiful ;  and  you  would  not  encourage  me 
even  by  a  parting  kiss.  I  returned  to  my  room  heart 
broken.  I  threw  myself  on  my  knees,  but  for  a  long 
time  I  could  not  pray,  —  I  could  only  think  of  you.  '  I 
poured  out  my  soul  like  water ; '  I  earnestly  besought 
God  for  you,  that  you  might  retract  those  dreadful 
words.  Through  the  day  I  kept  my  couch,  starting  at 
every  sound,  longing,  oh,  so  eagerly  !  for  your  return. 

"  Then  there  came  a  change  in  my  feelings,  and  the 
thought  flashed  into  my  mind  that  I  ought  to  leave  home 
instantly ;  that  by  remaining  I  should  only  expose 
myself,  unnecessarily,  to  temptation.  God  had  once 
delivered  me ;  but  would  he  if  I  threw  myself  into 
trouble?  No,  my  duty  was  plain,  and,  however  great 
the  trials  I  might  have  to  encounter,  I  must  endure 
them  for  Christ's  sake,  if  I  would  win  my  reward. 

"Not  until  my  simple  preparations  were  made,  had  I 
the  heart  to  write  my  farewell.  Oh,  you  can  never 
know  the  agony  of  that  hour !  I  loved  you  more  than 
ever.  All  your  tenderness  and  affection  rushed  over 
me,  so  that  more  than  once  I  was  obliged  to  throw 
down  my  pen  and  cry  aloud.  The  thought  of  my  keen 
anguish  even  now  so  unnerves  me  that  I  can  scarcely 
write. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  wonder,  dear,  dear  father,  why  I 
now  address  you  ;  perhaps  you  will  be  displeased ;  but 
my  heart  urges  me  to  the  act.  Even  if  you  never 
answer  me,  if  you  only  read  this,  you  will  better  un 
derstand  my  motives  for  acting  contrary  to  your  com- 


176  JULIETTE. 

mands.  Oh,  if  you  would  forgive  me  and  receive  me 
again ;  if  you  would  allow  me  to  be  where  I  could  look 
upon  your  face  and  listen  to  your  voice  addressing  me 
as  you  did  the  past  winter  in  tones  of  fond  endearment, 
I  should  be  happy  indeed  !  You  would,  I  am  sure  you 
would,  if  you  realized  how  much  I  suffer.  Often  I 
wake  up  from  my  troubled  sleep  fancying  that  my 
hand  is  in  yours ;  that  I  feel  its  soft  pressure  while 
your  voice  echoes  the  blessed  words,  '  Juliette,  I  for 
give  you.'  Dear  father,  at  such  times  my  trial  is 
greater  than  I  can  bear. 

"I  have  not  yet  taken  any  decided  stand  as  a,  Christian. 
I  am  a  stranger  in  this  place,  and  could  not  feel  courage  ; 
but  unless  I  hear  from  you,  —  oh,  my  heart  beats  wildly 
at  the  very  thought !  —  I  shall  be  received  as  a  member 
of  the  Stamford  church  at  the  next  communion. 

"  Father,  for  one  moment  imagine  me  as  of  old,  seated 
on  a  taboret  at  your  feet,  your  kind  eyes  resting  on 
mine,  and  ask  yourself  whether  you  would  not  be 
happier  now,  and  more  at  peace  with  yourself  when 
you  lie  down  to  die,  if  you  give  your  consent  to  this, 
and  allow  me  to  return  to  you.  I  cannot  love  you 
more  than  I  do  now,  for  as  I  write  my  heart  swells  al 
most  to  bursting ;  but  if  my  whole  life  devoted  to  your 
comfort  will  prove  my  gratitude,  how  gladly  would  I 
dedicate  it  thus ! 

"Hoping  and  praying  for  an  early  answer,  I  sub 
scribe  myself  your  loving  daughter, 

"JULIETTE. 


JULIETTE.  177 

"P.  S. — As  you  will  see,'  by  my  address,  I  am 
within  a  few  miles  of  Mrs.  Osborn ;  but  as  you  forbade 
me  to  see  her,  I  have  found  pleasure  in  the  thought 
that  in  this  I  could  obey  your  commands.  If  you 
write,  please  direct  to  Juliette  Edwards,  care  of  Mr. 
Samuel  Smith,  Stamford." 

The  excitement  consequent  upon  writing  this  letter 
was  so  great  that  poor  Juliette  did  not  shut  her  eyes 
in  sleep  till  morning,  and  then  awoke,  after  an  hour  of 
unrefreshing  slumber,  with  so  severe  a  headache  that 
she  was  unable  to  rise  from  her  bed. 

Mrs.  Smith,  who  quickly  followed  Susan  to  her 
room,  advised  a  cup  of  sage  tea,  which  she  soon  made 
and  brought  to  the  couch ;  then,  closing  the  blinds, 
she  promised  that  the  house  should  be  kept  quiet  if 
the  poor  sufferer  would  try  to  sleep. 

It  was  near  noon  when  she  at  length  awoke,  wholly 
relieved  from  pain,  but  with  a  sense  of  lassitude  through 
her  whole  system.  She  had  no  idea  of  the  time,  but 
quickly  consulted  her  watch,  hoping  she  had  not  over 
slept  so  as  to  be  too  late  for  the  post.  Her  letter, 
when  sealed  and  directed  to  her  father,  she  had  the 
night  before  enclosed  in  another  envelope  to  Mrs. 
Folsom,  with  a  request  that  she  would  forward  it  at 
the  most  favorable  opportunity.  But  now,  upon 
further  reflection,  she  thought  it  would  be  better  re 
ceived  if  sent  according  to  the  first  address,  and  there 
fore  she  tore  off  the  outside  envelope  and  destroyed  it. 

This  she  wished  herself  to  carry  to  the  post,  feel- 


178  JULIETTE. 

ing  sure  that  if  her  simple-hearted  friends  should  be 
come  aware  that  their  guest  was  the  daughter  of 
Edward  Fearing,  the  rich  banker,  they  might  be  some 
what  embarrassed  in  their  treatment  of  her.  Juliette 
knew  that  she  had  only  to  ask,  in  order  to  have  some 
method  contrived  for  her  to  go  where  she  wished, 
even  if  Mr.  Smith  or  James  left  their  farming  to  ac 
company  her. 

At  the  dinner-table  she  was  welcomed  as  warmly  as 
if  she  had  been  absent  for  several  days.  She  was  still 
very  pale,  which  Mrs.  Smith  thought  was  owing  to  her 
working  too  steadily. 

Juliette  smiled  as  she  replied,  "If  you  think  so,  I'll 
play  this  afternoon."  She  then  ventured  to  express  her 
wish  to  ride  as  far  as  the  village,  when  James  de 
clared  himself  ready  to  accompany  her  at  any  hour  she 
might  name.  This  he  said  with  so  much  earnestness 
that  Susan  laughed  aloud. 

It  was  hard  to  tell,  then,  who  appeared  the  most  con 
fused,  Juliette  or  her  friend  the  young  farmer. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Mrs.  Smith  looked  grave  and 
shook  her  head  at  the  lively  girl.  She  had  got  on  one 
of  her  high  keys,  as  her  father  called  it,  and  she  might 
just  as  well  have  it  out ;  and  her  merriment  proved  so 
contagious  that  at  last  they  all  joined  in,  though 
James  insisted  that  he  didn't  know  what  on  earth  they 
were  laughing  at. 

At  three  o'clock  the  covered  wagon  drove  to  the 
door,  and  the  young  girls,  for  Juliette  had  begged 
Susan  to  accompany  her,  took  their  seats,  while  James, 


JULIETTE.  179 

dressed  in  his  Sunday  suit,  and  presenting  a  fine 
specimen  of  an  American  yeoman,  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  drove  gayly  off. 

Little  did  Juliette's  companions  imagine  the  anxiety 
with  which  she  went  to  deposit  her  epistle.  She  tried 
to  smile  in  answer  to  Susan's  lively  sallies  ;  but  it  was 
with  a  heavy  pain  at  her  heart. 

"Where  will  you  go  first,  Miss  Edwards?"  was 
James'  inquiry,  as  they  were  approaching  the  village. 

"To  the  post-office,  if  you  please,"  she  answered, 
with  a  blush. 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  of  men  standing  about,  and 
the  modest  girl  shrank  from  entering  alone. 

"  Don't  get  out,"  cried  Susan ;  "  I'll  hold  the  reins, 
and  let  James  go  in  for  you.  Run  in,  James,  and  in 
quire  for  Miss  Edwards." 

"No,  please  help  me  out,"  urged  Juliette:  "I  had 
rather  go  in  myself." 

The  young  man  saw  she  was  in  earnest,  and,  though 
he  rather  wondered,  he  did  not  oppose  her.  Scarcely 
touching  his  hands,  she  jumped  lightly  to  the  ground, 
and  made  her  way  to  the  door. 

James  at  first  hesitated  whether  to  follow  her,  but, 
at  a  word  from  his  sister,  stepped  forward  and  escorted 
her  toward  the  part  of  the  building  wrhere  she  might 
inquire  for  a  letter.  Just  outside  the  little  room,  a 
small  frame,  on  which  the  words,  "Letter-box,"  were 
printed,  arrested  Juliette's  attention ;  and  saying  in  a 
low  tone,  "You  inquire,  please,"  she  stepped  back,  and 
unnoticed  by  any  one  dropped  her  letter  within  it. 


180  JULIETTE. 

His  endeavors  to  procure  one  for  her  were  of  course 
unsuccessful ;  but  she  did  not  seem  at  all  disappointed. 
On  the  contrary,  she  went  back  to  the  carriage  in 
much  better  spirits  than  before. 

"  Now  we  will  go  to  Mr.  Allen's,"  exclaimed  Susan, 
"  and  then  call  for  mother's  things  at  the  store  as  we 
return." 

Here  Juliette  had  two  errands.  The  ostensible  one 
was  to  ask  the  pastor's  acceptance  of  half  a  dozen 
white  cravats  she  had  been  hemming  for  him ;  the 
other  will  be  learned  in  its  place. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stop  ?  "  asked  Susan. 
"Shall  we  all  go  in?" 

"Just  as  you  please,"  was  the  answer;  "  my  business 
will  occupy  me  but  a  moment." 

"Do  you  want  to  go  in,  James?"  inquired  his 
sister. 

"Yes,  I  always  like  to  call  here." 

"Well,  then,  we'll  get  out;  and  you  can  tie  the 
horse." 

As  they  stood  at  the  door,  waiting  for  the  young  man 
to  join  them,  Juliette  whispered,  "  I  wish  you  would 
contrive  for  me  to  see  Mr.  Allen  alone  a  moment ;  I 
can't  give  him  these  if  his  family  are  present." 

The  good  clergyman  and  his  wife  received  them 
very  cordially.  Mrs.  Allen  presently  engaged  the 
young  man,  who  was  a  favorite  with  her,  in  con 
versation,  while  her  husband  talked  with  the  ladies. 

Presently  Susan,  who  had  not  forgotten  Juliette's 
charge,  arose  from  her  seat  saying,  as  she  pointed  to 


JULIETTE.  181 

the  open  door,  "That  is  Mr.  Allen's  study.  May  I 
show  Miss  Edwards  the  view  from  the  window?" 

The  pastor,  of  course,  gave  his  consent,  and  followed 
them  as  in  duty  bound . 

The  prospect  was  extensive,  and  the  young  lady  ex 
pressed  her  admiration  of  it.  Then,  approaching  the 
good  man,  she  gracefully  placed  her  small  offering  in 
his  hands.  When  she  looked  around,  after  receiving 
his  thanks,  she  saw  her  companion  had  joined  the 
party  in  the  other  room,  and  in  rather  a  hurried,  em 
barrassed  manner  said,  "  There  is  one  thing  I  ought  to 
say  to  you,  sir,  —  I  forgot  it  yesterday,  or  rather  I  did 
not  feel  it  to  be  so  necessary  as  I  now  do.  My  name 
is  Juliette  Edwards ;  but  that  is  not  my  whole  name. 
I  am  the  daughter  of  Edward  Fearing,  of  New  York 
city ;  but,  if  possible  to  avoid  it,  I  should  prefer  not  to 
be  known  as  such,  for  reasons  you  can  easily  imag 
ine." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Allen,  with  a  start  of 
surprise.  "  Well,  I  will  try  to  manage  it  for  you. 
Do  your  friends,  glancing  toward  the  parlor,  know  of 
this?" 

"No,  sir,  they  only  know  me  as  Miss  Edwards. 
Perhaps  you  will  be  pleased  to  learn  that  I  have  just 
posted  my  letter." 

On  their  return  to  the  parlor  the  conversation  be 
came  general;  and  Juliette  was  quite  delighted  and 
rather  astonished  to  see  with  what  manliness  and  ease 
James  expressed  his  opinion  on  the  various  topics  in 
troduced.  There  was  nothing  at  all  of  the  shyness 

16 


182  JULIETTE. 

with  which  he  generally  addressed  her.  They  con 
versed  of  the  state  of  religion  in  the  parish,  of  some 
new  arrangements  in  the  Sabbath  school,  and  the 
young  farmer  exhibited  a  soundness  of  judgment,  and 
good  common-sense  she  had  not  known  him  to  possess. 

During  their  ride  from  the  parsonage  to  the  store, 
she  exclaimed,  frankly,  "James,  I  am  glad  you  went 
in.  I  never  heard  you  talk  so  much  before."  And 
she  looked  in  his  face  with  such  an  expression  of  in 
terest  that  his  manly  heart  glowed  for  the  rest  of  the 
day. 

"Did  you  hear  what  Mrs.  Allen  asked  me?"  in 
quired  Susan. 

"No." 

"I  told  her  we  were  going  to  Mr.  Houghtou's  store, 
and  she  whispered,  'Are  we  to  have  a  wedding 
soon?'" 

"  You  must  ask  Maria,"  said  I,  laughing  heartily. 
"How  do  you  suppose,  James,  she  heard  of  their  en 
gagement  ?  " 

"Perhaps  from  Dudley,"  he  remarked;  "he  makes 
no  secret  of  it ;  and  I  wouldn't,  if  I  were  he."  The 
young  farmer  glanced  shyly  at  Juliette  as  he  said 
this. 


CHAPTEE 


"  Upon  her  face  there  was  the  tint  of  grief, 
The  settled  shadow  of  an  inward  strife, 
And  an  unquiet  drooping  of  the  eye, 
As  if  its  lid  were  charged  with  unshed  tears." 

BEFORE  the  close  of  the  third  day,  our  young 
heroine  began  to  feel  impatient  for  an  answer  to 
her  letter  ;  but  she  was  destined  to  be  disappointed.  As 
the  reader  is  well  aware,  her  father  and  brother  were 
long  ere  this  on  their  way  to  Liverpool  ;  and  the  clerk, 
to  whose  care  all  correspondence  was  consigned  to  be 
forwarded  to  them  abroad,  being  absent  for  a  day,  the 
precious  epistle,  freighted  with  love,  and  followed  by 
prayers,  was  carelessly  dropped  into  a  drawer  with 
other  papers,  and  was  not  again  brought  to  view  until 
nearly  a  year  later.  Then  it  was  enclosed  in  another 
envelope  and  mailed  for  Vienna,  where  Mr.  Fearing 
was  supposed  to  be  staying. 

As  one  week  tardily  followed  in  the  footsteps  of 
another,  and  no  tidings  from,  home  ;  no  word  even  to 
tell  the  poor  disinherited  daughter  that  she  was  for 
given,  —  she  grew  pale  and  wan,  her  appetite  left  her, 
and  she  was  oppressed  with  such  a  sense  of  lassitude 
that  it  required  constant  exertion  to  perform  the  daily 
tasks  she  had  assigned  herself.  She  was  often  obliged 

183 


184  JULIETTE. 

to  retire  suddenly  to  her  own  room,  to  give  vent  to  the 
grief  which  she  could  not  suppress. 

"  O  remembrance  I 
Why  dost  thou  open  all  my  wounds  again  ?  " 

In  vain  Mrs.  Smith  prepared  little  dainties  to  tempt 
her  appetite ;  in  vain  Susan  invited  her  to  the  berry 
parties  so  frequent  at  this  season ;  in  vain  Mr.  Smith 
and  Maria  proposed  rides,  walks,  or  more  nourishing 
food ;  while  James,  with  a  sad  pain  gnawing  at  his 
manly  heart,  regarded  her  with  eloquent  silencer  Her 
sorrow  had  sunk  into  her  soul,  and  no  arm  but  an  Al 
mighty  one  could  remove  it ;  no  sympathy  but  that  of 
her  Saviour  could  soothe  and  comfort  her. 

One  day,  having  passed  the  morning  in  tears,  she 
invited  Mrs.  Smith  to  her  chamber,  and,  throwing  her 
arms  about  the  kind  woman,  exclaimed,  "Oh,  I  am 
miserable  indeed  !  I  have  deceived  myself  in  thinking 
I  am  a  Christian.  I  am  impatient  under  trials.  I  did 
not  calculate  aright  my  own  strength,  and  I  am  unsub 
missive  to  the  will  of  God.  I  bow  my  knees  before 
him,  but  I  can  find  no  comfort  in  prayer ;  I  can  only 
cry  aloud,  O  my  father !  my  father !  would  to  God 
that  I  had  never  left  you !  O  Mrs.  Smith !  some 
times  I  wake  up,  bathed  in  perspiration,  dreaming  of 
him  calling  for  me,  sick,  and  longing  for  my  presence. 
It  is  dreadful.  I  feel  sure  I  cannot  endure  it  long. 
Perhaps  I  wras  too  hasty  ;  perhaps  he  would  have  re 
voked  his  terrible  threat.  I  cannot  believe  he  would 


JULIETTE.  185 

have  thrust  me  out.  But,  then,  why  does  he  not  write 
me?" 

"Don't,  dear  child  !  don't  cry  so  !  you  will  kill  your 
self!  Don't,  Juliette  !  You  did  what  you  thought  was 
best.  Your  motive  was  a  right  one,  to  avoid  tempta 
tion.  Suppose,  dear,  you  had  waited  till  his  return, 
and  then  your  courage  had  failed  ?  Suppose  you  had 
consented  to  give  up  your  Saviour,  would  you  have 
been  happier  now?  No,  indeed  !  You  forsook  all  for 
him,  and  he  will  surely  fulfil  his  promise  to  you.  No 
wonder  you  feel  your  father's  displeasure.  I've  been 
afraid  you  were  brooding  over  your  sorrows,  for  you 
have  faded  like  a  broken  lily.  Come,  dear ;  "  and  the 
kind  woman,  choking  back  her  own  tears,  drew  the 
weeping  child  closer  and  closer  to  her  bosom. 

"Our  hearts  have  ached  for  you,"  she  added,  softly 
stroking  Juliette's  head,  "  and  many's  the  earnest  prayer 
we've  put  up  that  you  might  hold  out  in  the  good 
cause.  As  Mr.  Smith  said  last  night,  'tisn't  many  in 
these  days  are  called  to  go  through  such  fiery  trials ; 
and  to  our  short-sighted  vision  it  seems  strange  that 
such  a  little,  weak,  delicate  creature  as  you  are,  should 
be  called  to  them ;  but  God  knows  best,  dear,  and  we 
must  trust  him.  You  remember  the  saints  about  the 
throne,  clothed  in  white  robes,  are  those  'which  came 
out  of  great  tribulation.'" 

The  sobs  grew  less  frequent,  and  at  length  Juliette 
murmured,  "I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Allen.  If  he 
knew  how  rebellious  my  heart  is,  perhaps  he  would 
not  admit  me  to  the  church." 

16* 


186  JULIETTE. 

"You  shall  go,  dear.  I'll  contrive  it  some  way;" 
and,  leading  the  young  girl  to  a  chair,  Mrs.  Smith 
hastened  below. 

Juliette  little  realized  how  inconvenient  it  would  be 
for  her  to  be  carried  to  the  village,  or  she  would  on  no 
account  have  expressed  the  wish.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  haying,  and  Mr.  Smith,  his  son,  and  several  extra 
hands  were  hurrying  to  get  the  hay  under  cover  while 
the  dry  weather  continued. 

When  the  good  woman  went  below,  she  found  James 
hastily  eating  his  luncheon  in  the  kitchen,  her  husband 
having  finished  his  and  returned  to  his  work. 

"I  suppose  the  horses  are  all  in  use,"  said  she,  hesi 
tatingly. 

"Yes,  mother,  all  in  the  hay-carts.  It  looks  showery, 
and  we  have  three  or  four  loads  well  dried."  He  held 
the  bowl  of  milk  to  his  lips,  drained  it,  and  then  set 
back  his  chair  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

As  he  took  his  straw  hat  from  the  hook,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  face  as  she  was  thinking,  "  Perhaps  this 
evening  will  do."  He  saw  she  had  been  weeping,  and 
coining  directly  to  her  he  asked,  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
"What  is  it,  mother?  Is  Juliette  —  " 

"  She  is  miserable  this  afternoon,"  she  began,  inter 
rupting  him,  "and  wants  to  see  Mr.  Allen." 

James  turned  from  his  mother  to  the  window,  not 
liking  to  have  even  her  eye  witness  his  distress.  Pres 
ently,  with  his  back  turned  toward  her,  he  said,  "I'll 
have  the  carriage  at  the  door  in  fifteen  minutes." 


JULIETTE.  187 

He  spoke  indistinctly,  and  then,  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
passed  into  the  shed. 

His  mother  followed  him,  and  put  her  hand  softly  on 
his  shoulder.  "It  troubles  me,"  said  she,  "to  have 
you  take  this  so  to  heart.  I  wish  your  love  could  be 
returned,  my  son,  but  I'm  afraid  for  you.  If  she 
lives,  which  to  me  is  doubtful,  she  will  be  in  a  different 
society  from  ours." 

"  Don't !  don't,  mother  !  "  he  cried,  his  face  growing 
very  red,  and  then  suddenly  becoming  pale ;  "you 
don't  know  how  you  pain  me  ;  "  and  he  put  his  hand  to 
his  heart  as  if  he  could  quiet  its  wild  beating.  "  If  it 
is  as  you  imagine  I  must  pray  for  strength  to  bear  it ;  but 
I  can't  stop  to  think  of  myself  when  she's  suffering." 

By  this  time  he  had  removed  his  overalls,  and  said, 
"  I'll  take  one  of  the  horses  out  of  the  cart  and  slip  on 
the  harness,  and  then  I'll  dress  me.  Don't  tell  her  it's 
inconvenient,  'cause  I  can  go  as  well  as  not." 

With  a  silent  petition  for  her  poor  boy,  whose  un 
requited  love  for  their  suffering  guest  she  had  long 
suspected,  Mrs.  Smith  returned  to  the  chamber  to  assist 
Juliette  in  preparing  for. the  ride. 

"The  air  will  do  you  good,  at  any  rate,"  she  said, 
tenderly,  as  she  stood  watching  the  young  girl  bathing 
her  eyes,  "and  Mr.  Allen  is  a  kind  man." 

"  Yes,  he  is  ;  but  not  so  kind  as  you  are  ; "  and  the 
tears  began  to  flow  again.  "Sometimes  I'm  afraid 
your  patience  will  wear  out." 

"  When  it  does,  I'll  let  you  know,"  returned  Mrs. 
Smith,  trying  not  to  appear  moved. 


188  JULIETTE. 

At  this  moment  Maria's  voice  was  heard  out  of 
doors,  — 

"Are  you  go  ing  to  the  store,  James?" 

"I'm  going  to  the  village,"  was  his  grave  reply. 

"  Why !  father  said  he  couldn't  possibly  spare  the 
horse  to  go." 

No  answer. 

"Well,  I'll  run  and  get  my  bonnet,  for  I'm  going 
with  you.  I  want  some  thread." 

The  reply  was  in  a  low  tone,  but,  in  the  stillness 
about  the  farm-house,  was  plainly  heard. 

"I'll  get  some  thread  for  you,  or  carry  you  this  even 
ing,  but  you  can't  go  now." 

By  this  time  he  had  tied  the  horse  to  the  post,  and 
ran  to  the  sink  to  wash. 

**I  want  four  spools  of  number  fifty,"  responded 
Maria,  seeing  from  his  grave  look  it  was  no  use  to  urge 
him ;  "  but  I  may  as  well  write  it  to  Dudley,  you'll  be 
sure  to  forget  it." 

"I  ought  not  to  go,"  sighed  Juliette.  "I'll  wait  till 
another  time." 

"  No,  no ;  he'll  be  ready  in  a  minute.  It'll  be  a 
pleasure  to  him  to  do  anything  for  your  comfort ; "  and 
with  a  sigh  for  her  son,  Mrs.  Smith  kissed  Juliette's 
cheek. 

The  young  farmer  brought  the  carriage  to  the  door 
a  few  seconds  after  the  expiration  of  the  fifteen  min 
utes.  He  glanced  anxiously  in  the  young  girl's  face 
as  he  tenderly  lifted  her  into  the  vehicle,  but  did  not 
speak. 


JULIETTE.  189 

She  smiled  feebly.  "I'm  afraid  I'm  giving  you  a 
great  deal  of  trouble,"  said  she. 

"  I'd  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  if  'twould  give  back 
your  health  and  peace."  He  checked  himself,  his  face 
as  red  as  fire,  while  he  added,  "I  mean,  we  all  feel  for 
you,  Miss  Edwards,  though  we  don't  rightly  under 
stand  your  troubles." 

She  was  silent  and  embarrassed  for  a  moment ;  then, 
turning  her  moistened  eyes  to  his  with  a  look  of  sor 
row  that  penetrated  his  soul,  she  said  softly,  "  Mine  is 
a  sad  story.  I  will  ask  your  mother  to  tell  it  to  you 
some  time." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  dreadful  bungler,"  exclaimed 
the  young  man  with  an  air  of  self-reproach.  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  pry  into  your  secrets.  I  was  only  trying  to 
say  how  much  we  all  sympathize  with  you.  Why,  the 
first  look  I  had  into  your  eyes,  I  saw  sorrow  there. 
But  after  a  while  you  seemed  happier,  and  I  thought 
maybe  you'd  get  used  to  us,  and  mother's  nursing 
would  do  you  good.  It  seemed  hard  to  think  such  a 
one  as  you  should  be  in  want  of  friends  to  care  for 
you." 

James  stopped.  His  feelings  were  carrying  him  too 
far.  Not  for  the  world  would  he  intrude  his  own  sor 
rows  upon  her ;  and  so  he  ended  his  sentence  rather 
awkwardly,  by  saying,  "  I  hope  Mr.  Allen  will  be  able 
to  comfort  you." 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  with  more  warmth.  "I 
am  grateful  for  your  kindness,  though  I  may  not  appear 
so.  I  have  thanked  my  heavenly  Father,  every  day 


190  JULIETTE. 

since  I  came  to  Stamford,  that  he  has  given  me  such 
kind  friends.  I  tremble  to  think  what  I  should  have 
done  without  your  mother  and  all  of  you." 

Oh,  how  earnestly  the  young  farmer  longed  to  clasp 
that  little  hand  lying  so  passively  on  her  lap,  and 
pledge  his  life  to  the  work  of  making  her  happy  !  His 
athletic  frame  shook  with  the  fierce  struggle  to  control 
himself.  Fortunately,  as  she  sat  by  his  side,  she  did 
not  notice  his  emotion,  and  in  silence  they  rode  on 
until  they  reached  Mr.  Allen's  gate. 

The  pastor  happened  to  be  sitting  near  the  window, 
and  came  forward  eagerly  to  meet  them.  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  you,  my  child,"  he  said,  in  an  impressive  tone. 
"  I  was  only  waiting  for  the  sun  to  go  down  a  little 
before  I  started  to  walk  to  the  farm ;  but  I'm  glad  you 
came.  Come  in,  come  in.  Two  miles  is  something 
of  a  walk  for  me.  Walk  into  the  parlor,  Mr.  Smith." 

"No,  I  thank  you,  sir;  I've  an  errand  at  the  store, 
and  I'll  call  again  in  a  few  minutes." 

Mr.  Allen  went  to  his  study,  after  giving  his 
young  friend  a  chair,  and  presently  returned  with  a 
newspaper.  "I  can  imagine,"  he  began,  "that  you 
have  come  to  tell  me  your  disappointment  at  not  receiv 
ing  a  letter ;"  and  he  gazed  in  her  face  in  a  manner  she 
did  not  exactly  understand. 

"Partly  that,  sir,"  she  replied,  in  some  confusion. 

"Yes,  I  supposed  so.  Well,  after  dinner,  I  took  up 
this  *  New  York  Journal  of  Commerce,'  supposing  it  the 
last  number,  and  read  on  some  time  before  I  noticed 


JULIETTE.  191 

my  mistake.  I  was  just  about  to  throw  it  aside  when 
my  eye  caught  the  following  paragraph." 

"Stop  a  minute  !  Oh,  stop  !"  cried  Juliette,  every 
particle  of  color  leaving  her  face  and  lips,  as  the  horri 
ble  fear  that  her  father  was  dead,  rushed  into  her 
mind. 

"No,  let  me  tell  you,  now.  It  is  not  so  bad  as  you 
imagine,  my  poor  child.  It  will  relieve  you  to  hear  it." 
And  as  she  faintly  bowed  her  assent,  he  read, — 

"We  regret  to  say  that  Edward  Fearing,  Esq.,  hav 
ing  recovered  from  his  late  illness,  has  sailed  for  Liver 
pool  in  the  Astracan,  Capt.  Spooner,  with  the  intention 
of  remaining  abroad  for  some  years.  His  son,  Mr. 
Henry  Fearing,  accompanied  him.  Mr.  Fearing,  Sen 
ior,  is  one  of  our  most  successful  merchants,  and  his 
well-known  benevolence  toward  the  public  charities  of 
our  city,  as  well  as  his  high  integrity  and  shrewdness 
in  business,  render  his  departure  a  serious  calamity." 

"  Thank  God  ! "  exclaimed  the  excited  girl  fervently, 
clasping  her  hands  ;  "  I  feared  he  was  not  living." 

"  I  ought  to  have  been  more  cautious  in  telling  you. 
This  is  dated  some  weeks  back,  so  that  your  letter  did 
not  reach  him,  but  will  doubtless  be  forwarded  to  him 
abroad." 

"Yes,  sir;  he  has  a  confidential  clerk  that  attends  to 
all  such  business.  Oh,  you  can  scarcely  imagine  what 
a  relief  it  is  to  me  !  I  feel  almost  sure  he  will  forgive 
me  and  arrange  some  way  for  me  to  join  him." 

A  bright,  beautiful  blush  mantled  her  cheek  at  the 
thought  of  meeting  Horace,  also,  and  with  an  animation 


192  JULIETTE. 

he  had  never  seen  in  her  before,  she  said,  playfully,  "  I 
should  like  to  keep  this  paper  if  you  have  done  with  it. 
It  does  my  father  no  more  than  justice." 

"  Certainly,  take  it  and  welcome.  Happy  days  are 
in  store  for  you,  I  do  not  doubt."  He  then,  in  a 
fatherly  way,  inquired  the  state  of  her  heart  in  regard 
to  the  vows  she  was  soon  to  take  upon  herself. 

She  humbly  related  the  experience  of  the  last  few 
days,  received  his  sympathy  and  encouragement  to 
persevere  in  aiming  after  a  high  degree  of  holiness,  and 
then,  perceiving  James  driving  up  to  the  gate,  hastened 
to  meet  him,  bidding  the  pastor  adieu  in  quite  a  cheer 
ful  voice. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

11  Not  rural  sights  alone,  but  rural  sounds 
Exhilarate  the  spirits,  and  restore 
The  tone  of  languid  nature." 

ONE  glance  into  Juliette's  beaming  face  served  to 
show  her  companion  that  whatever  her  cause  of 
anxiety  might  have  been,  it  was  removed,  and  his 
honest  countenance  at  once  expressed  his  pleasure. 

"  How  quiet  and  beautiful  the  country  is !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  See  how  regularly  those  men  work,  cut 
ting  hay  !" 

"They  are  cradling  oats,"  answered  James,  laugh 
ing.  "Did  you  never  see  any  such  work  before? 
We  have  a  fine  piece  of  oats  to  get  in  when  our  haying 
is  done.  You  must  come  out  and  see  us." 

"I  should  like  to,"  she  answered,  leaning  from  the 
carriage  to  watch  them  ;  "  it  looks  so  prettily." 

"Farming  is  a  first-rate  business  to  my  mind," 
remarked  the  young  man,  enthusiastically.  "  You  know 
Adam  was  a  farmer ;  and  I've  sometimes  thought,  if 
Eve  hadn't  eaten  the  apple  there  wouldn't  have  been 
any  other  business  done." 

Juliette  laughed.  "I  don't  know  how  that  would 
have  been,"  she  replied.  "I'm  no  theologian." 

17  193 


194  JULIETTE. 

Mrs.  Smith  was  watching  for  them,  and  could 
scarcely  believe  her  eyes  when  she  saw  James,  a  broad 
smile  brightening  his  face,  jump  from  the  carriage  and 
lift  Juliette  carefully  down  the  step,  while  she  was 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  cheerfulness  they  had  not  heard 
from  her  for  weeks. 

"You  are  better,  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  warmly. 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  cried  the  grateful  girl,  cordially 
returning  the  woman's  kiss.  "If  you  will  come  to  my 
room  I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

"  Mother  I "  called  James  from  the  back  door,  "  will 
you  step  this  way  a  minute  ?  " 

She  ran  to  answer  the  summons,  saying,  as  she  went, 
"I'll  be  up  there  presently." 

"I've  got  something  here,"  said  the  young  man,  giv 
ing  her  a  small  parcel  enclosed  in  a  paper  bag,  "  that  I 
want  to  get  you  to  cook  for  supper.  A  man  came 
along  with  pigeons  while  I  was  at  the  store,  and  I 
thought  maybe  a  bit  of  the  breast  would  relish  a  little." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now  !  "  she  exclaimed,  her  look  of 
wonder  changing  to  one  of  merriment ;  "  I  understand, 
and  I'll  cook  part  of  one  to  tempt  her ;  she  never  eats 
much  more  than  a  bird,  and  I've  sometimes  been  afraid 
our  great  dishes  of  meat  take  away  her  appetite." 

"  Well,  mother,  do  what  you  please  with  them,  only 
don't  let  her  know  —  " 

His  words  were  suddenly  brought  to  an  end  by  see 
ing  Juliette  standing  close  behind  his  mother.  The 
color  flew  to  his  face,  and  "he  hastily  retreated,  just  as 


JULIETTE.  195 

she  was  about  to  thank  him  for  her  ride,  which,  on 
alighting  from  the  carriage,  she  had  forgotten  to  do. 

Though  she  had  heard  his  words,  she  seemed  not  to 
have  comprehended  his  meaning,  and  waiting  while 
Mrs.  Smith  laid  the  paper  parcel  in  the  ice-chest,  she 
followed  her  to  the  chamber.  Here  she  related  what 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted  with,  and  read  the  par 
agraph  before  alluded  to,  omitting  only  the  name  of 
her  father. 

Mrs.  Smith  was  sanguine  that  her  letter  would  be 
answered,  and  that  all  would  come  out  right  in  the  end. 
"I  shall  try  not  to  be  selfish ; "  she  said,  "  but  it  would 
be  hard  for  all  of  us  to  part  with  you. "  Then  kissing 
the  bright  cheek,  on  which  the  tear  of  filial  love  still 
glistened,  she  exclaimed,  "  God  will  order  all  for  your 
good,  my  dear  child ;  and  who  knows  but  your  con 
sistent  adherence  to  your  religion  may  win  him  to 
Christ?" 

"  Oh,  how  happy  I  should  be  !  "  was  the  delighted 
response. 

They  were  interrupted  by  voices  in  the  entry,  and 
presently  Maria  came  in.  "  Why,  have  you  returned  ?  " 
she  inquired,  in  surprise.  "Where  is  James?" 

"In  the  field,  by  this  time,  I'll  warrant,"  replied  his 
mother,  with  a  laugh.  "  He'll  do  a  day's  work  between 
this  and  dark.  He's  a  smart  lad  to  work,  if  he  is  my 
son." 

"  He's  got  a  large  heart  and  a  warm  one,"  earnestly 
responded  Juliette.  "  I  shall  never  forget  his  kindness 
to  me." 


196  JULIETTE. 

"Susan,"  called  out  Maria,  "they've  come  home. 
Juliette's  in  here." 

"How  much  better  you  do  look  ! "  cried  Susan,  em 
bracing  her  affectionately.  "What  have  you  been 
doing  to  yourself  ?  You're  so  changed  I  can  scarcely 
believe  it's  our  pale,  sad  girl.  I  move  James  carry 
you  to  ride  every  day ; "  and  she  glanced  archly  in  her 
companion's  face. 

"I  must  wait  till  haying  is  over,"  replied  Juliette, 
innocently. 

"  Do  you  like  thimbleberries  ?  "  inquired  Maria. 

"Yes,  very  much.  We  used  to  have  them  at  Mrs. 
Osborn's  school." 

"  Did  you  go  there  ?  "  eagerly  asked  Susan.  "  Why 
it's  close  by  Stamford,  and  father  thought  some  of 
sending  us,  but  he  found  it  was  too  expensive." 

"I  was  with  Mrs.  Osborn  several  years,"  remarked 
Juliette,  with  a  slight  blush.  "There  was  a  thick 
hedge  of  thimbleberry  bushes  about  the  house,  and  the 
girls  used  to  pick  them  when  they  pleased." 

"They  are  very  thick  back  of  our  barn,"  rejoined 
Maria.  "We've  gathered  two  or  three  quarts  this 
afternoon.  I  wonder  whether  James  brought  me 
anything  from  Dudley." 

"  He  laid  a  small  bundle  on  the  kitchen  table,"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Smith ;  "  perhaps  that  is  for  you." 

"  Susan,  you  run  down  and  get  it ;  that's  a  good  girl," 
said  her  sister,  throwing  herself  lazily  into  a  large 
chair. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  muttered   the  other. 


JULIETTE.  197 

"  When  one  has  a  beau  she  ought  to  pay  the  penalty. 
I  shall  expect  to  do  my  own  running  when  I  have 
one." 

"Is  this  the  bundle ?"  asked  Juliette,  who,  unper- 
ceived,  had  slipped  from  the  room  and  brought  it  from 
the  table. 

"I'm  sorry  you  went,"  said  Maria.  "Yes,  it's  my 
thread." 

A  tiny  note  dropped  to  the  floor,  which  Juliette  re 
stored  with  an  arch  glance. 

"I  wonder  how  it  feels  to  be  in  love,"  exclaimed 
Susan,  laughing. 

"Ask  James,  and  perhaps  he  will  tell  you,"  re 
marked  Maria,  gravely. 

Susan  shook  her  head  with  an  earnest  glance  toward 
Juliette.  "Perhaps  he  wont,"  she  retorted,  quickly. 

"  Girls,  don't  you  want  to  go  out  and  rake  after  the 
cart?"  called  Mrs.  Smith,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
"  There's  a  shower  coming  up." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  we'll  come ; "  and  they  were  soon  on 
the  way  to  the  meadow,  as  the  large  field  was  called, 
and  which  was  but  a  short  distance  in  front  of  the 
house. 

It  was  a  novel  and  interesting  scene  for  Juliette. 
Large  cocks  of  fragrant  hay  were  scattered  over  the 
field,  which  men  were  hastily  loading  on  the  large  racks. 
They  approached  one  where  James  was  at  work,  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  cart,  and  packing  the  hay  in 
place  as  fast  as  two  men  could  pitch  on.  He  called 
out  merrily  to  his  sisters  to  take  the  rakes  from  some 

17* 


198  JULIETTE. 

men  who  were  following  after,  gathering  up  the  small 
locks  left  behind. 

They  did  so,  and  entered  into  the  sport  with  so  much 
enthusiasm,  trying  to  see  who  could  gather  the  most, 
that  Juliette  began  to  long  for  a  rake  to  imitate  them. 

The  men  immediately  left  for  another  part  of  the 
field,  to  assist  Mr.  Smith  in  loading  his  cart. 

The  sun  was  now  clouded,  so  that  it  was  delightful 
to  be  out ;  and  our  young  friend,  relieved  from  the 
dreadful  burden  which  had  oppressed  her,  gayly  fol 
lowed  from  one  cock  to  another,  until  the  cart  was 
filled  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

"  I  hope  James  wont  ride  on  that  high  load  to  the 
barn,"  she  exclaimed,  as  one  of  the  men  took  hold  of 
the  bridle  to  lead  the  horse  away. 

"  Oh,  he's  used  to  it !  "  responded  Susan.  "  See  how 
straight  he  stands,  scarcely  touching  his  pitchfork." 

"It  don't  seem  safe  to  me,  and  I  don't  want  to  see 
him  do  it ;  "  and  Juliette  turned  away,  and  followed  the 
girls  to  their  father's  cart. 

The  men  were  working  with  all  their  might,  casting 
frequent  and  anxious  glances  toward  the  western  sky, 
where  a  black  cloud  was  gradually  spreading  along 
the  horizon. 

"  If  it'll  hold  off  half  an  hour  more,  I  think  we  shall 
be  safe,"  said  Mr.  Smith.  "James  is  wonderfully 
quick  at  unloading." 

"He  works  this  afternoon  as  if  he  was  possessed," 
answered  one  of  the  men.  "  It  e'enamost  takes  away 
my  breath  to  see  him  fly  from  one  end  of  the  cart  to 


JULIETTE.  199 

/ 

the  other,  calling  out 'more  here,' and 'more  there;' 
and  then  his  load  looks  like  a  picter  when  it's  done ; 
no  great  gouches  sticking  out ;  all  even  and  smooth." 

"  He  takes  to  farm  work  as  natural  as  a  mother  takes 
to  her  own  child,"  rejoined  the  farmer.  "There,  Su 
san,  is  a  bunch  behind  you." 

"  I  wish  I'd  worn  my  gloves,"  exclaimed  the  young 
girl ;  "  I've  a  great  blister  already." 

"Take  mine,"  cried  Juliette,  pulling  them  from  her 
hands.  Susan  laughed  as  the  delicate  articles  were 
held  up  before  her. 

"  They  wouldn't  last  a  minute,"  she  said,  gayly. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  run  and  get  yours."  And  she  went 
hastily  toward  the  house. 

On  her  way  she  met  James  returning  for  his  last 
load. 

He  bowed  and  smiled,  but  passed  without  speak 
ing. 

"Are  they  almost  done?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Smith,  who 
was  putting  a  large  glass  dish  full  of  thimbleberries 
on  the  supper-table. 

"  Only  ten  cocks  more,"  answered  Juliette.  "  They 
are  hurrying  as  fast  as  they  can.  I  want  Susan's 
gloves." 

Mr.  Smith  drove  hastily  to  the  barn,  hoping  to  be 
able  to  unload  by  the  time  James  came  with  the  re 
mainder,  which,  if  necessary,  could  be  left  inside  the 
barn  on  the  cart  till  morning. 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  they'll  get  it  all  in  !  "  cried  Juliette, 


200  JULIETTE. 

as  she  gave  Susan  the  gloves ;  "  I'm  afraid  my  going  to 
the  village  detained  them." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that,"  answered 
James,  from  the  top  of  the  cart.  "  Ten  minutes  more 
and  we're  all  right." 

M I  wish  I  could  help,  too." 

He  only  laughed.  "Here,  Tom;  throw  a  fork  full 
to  the  middle.  That's  right !  Now  in  front,  Mr. 
Hanson  !  Drive  on  for  the  last  cock.  Whew  !  there's 
a  drop  of  rain.  Hurry  up,  my  good  fellows.  We'll 
have  time  to  cool  off  afterward.  Here  goes  !  "  And 
the  sweet-scented  hay  flew  through  the  air,  while 
Maria  and  Susan  ran  here  and  ran  there ;  Juliette,  in 
her  enthusiasm,  catching  a  bunch  in  her  arms  and 
holding  it  up  for  the  man  to  take  on  his  fork. 

"I  guess  miss  was  made  for  a  farmer's  wife,"  said 
Tom,  with  a  cunning  wink  at  his  young  master. 

"Drive  on,"  shouted  James,  sternly,  his  color 
growing  some  shades  deeper. 

Five  minutes  more,  and  the  horses,  all  in  a  foam, 
drove  into  the  barn,  just  as  the  windows  of  heaven 
were  opened  and  the  rain  began  to  descend  in  tor 
rents. 

The  men  threw  themselves  on  the  hay,  perfectly 
exhausted,  and  began  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from 
their  foreheads. 

"  I  call  that  lucky,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  man  named 
Hanson.  '"T would  have  been  a  terrible  pity  to  have 
had  that  well-dried  hay  get  wet." 


CHAPTER  XX. 


"  A  pure  heart, 

That  burns  to  ashes,  yet  conceals  its  pain, 
For  fear  it  mar  its  hopeless  source  of  love, 
Is  not  to  be  despised,  or  lightly  held." 


WITHIN  the  house  the  table  was  set  for  supper, 
and  a  most  inviting  meal  it  was,  too.  Fried 
fish,  crisp  and  brown,  early  potatoes,  srnoking-hot  frit 
ters,  thimbleberries  and  cream,  while  directly  in  front 
of  Juliette's  plate  was  a  tiny,  covered  dish,  an  object 
of  curiosity  to  all  present. 

But  I  am  too  fast  for  my  story,  for  I  would  not 
have  the  reader  suppose  that  the  good  matron  would 
run  the  risk  of  her  tempting  viands  growing  cold, 
while  her  family  were  making  ready  for  the  meal. 
Please  imagine,  then,  the  fish  sizzling  and  crackling  in 
the  frying-pan,  the  mealy  potatoes  bursting  open  in 
the  oven,  while  Maria,  taking  an  old-fashioned  horn 
from  a  high  shelf,  exclaimed,  "  Juliette,  come  and 
hear  me  call  the  people  from  the  barn." 

The  well-known  signal  was  instantly  responded  to 
by  James,  who  appeared  at  the  barn-door,  and  shouted 
back,  "Well  done,  Miss  Smith." 

201 


202  JULIETTE. 

"  Come  right  in,"  screamed  his  sister,  at  the  top  of 
her  voice.  "  Supper  is  ready,  and  for  the  men, 
too." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  an  open 
•wagon  whirled  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
Dudley,  who  was  wet  to  the  skin,  making  all  haste  for 
one  of  the  large  horse-sheds  near  the  barn. 

The  rain  still  descended  in  torrents,  while  small 
extempore  rivulets  were  running  swiftly  by  the  sides 
of  the  road,  and  standing  in  huge  puddles  near  the 
doors.  Looking  from  the  window,  the  girls  laughed 
merrily  as  one  of  the  men  after  another,  starting  from 
the  barn-door,  rushed  toward  the  house,  where  they 
stood  in  the  woodshed  shaking  the  rain  from  their 
wet  garments. 

James,  unwilling  to  expose  himself  in  such  an 
awkward  plight,  made  a  dive  for  the  back  stairs,  to 
his  chamber,  from  which  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
he  reappeared  in  company  with  Dudley,  arrayed  in  a 
clean  suit,  and  ready  for  a  good  laugh  over  their 
adventures. 

They  were  greeted,  as  they  probably  expected  to  be, 
with  a  shout  of  mirth,  at  the  ill-fitting  dress  of  Dudley, 
who  had  donned  a  pair  of  James's  thin  pantaloons,  a 
thick,  winter  vest,  and  Mr.  Smith's  long-tailed  go-to- 
meeting  coat.  His  collar,  which  he  generally  wore 
turned  loosely  over  his  cravat,  now  stood  up,  shining 
and  erect,  to  the  imminent  peril  of  his  ears. 

Marching  along  in  a  stiff,  dignified  manner,  he  en 
deavored  to  take  Maria's  hand ;  but  she  snatched  it 


JULIETTE.  203 

away,  and  sank  back  on  the  sofa  nearly  convulsed 
with  laughter. 

Susan  and  Juliette,  too,  joined  in  the  mirth;  the 
latter  especially  entering  into  the  joke  more  heartily 
than  they  had  ever  seen  her  before. 

"I  never  saw  you  look  so  handsome,  Dudley,"  cried 
Susan,  archly;  "I  advise  you  to  borrow  that  suit  to 
wear  on  a  certain  grand  occasion,  it  becomes  you  so 
well." 

The  mother's  voice  was  now  heard  proclaiming  that 
supper  was  on  the  table,  and  an  additional  plate  being 
laid  for  Dudley,  Mr.  Smith  invoked  a  blessing,  and 
they  all  took  their  seats. 

"What's  in  this  little  dish,  mother?"  inquired 
Susan,  pointing  to  the  one  by  Juliette's  plate. 

"  Open  it,  and  see,  child.  There,  Juliette,  is  the 
breast  of  a  pigeon,  which  was  sent  to  you  with  a  request 
that  I  would  cook  it  nicely." 

"For  me,  Mrs.  Smith  ! "  cried  the  young  girl,  open 
ing  wide  her  eyes,  and  glancing  from  one  to  another 
around  the  table.  "Not  for  me  alone?" 

"Yes,  no  one  is  to  taste  but  you." 

James's  eyes  were  fixed  intently  on  his  plate,  his 
cheeks  and  even  his  forehead  intensely  flushed ;  but 
that,  of  course,  was  the  result  of  his  violent  exercise. 

Susan,  wicked  girl,  pinched  his  arm  under  the 
table,  and  at  length  burst  into  a  merry  laugh. 

"I  can  guess  who  sent  it,"  said  Juliette.  "It's 
perfectly  delicious.  'Tvvas  good  Mr.  Allen.  He  was 
coming  to  see  me  this  afternoon  if  I  had  not  gone 


204  JULIETTE. 

there.  But  anything  would  taste  good  to-night,  I'm  so 
hungry." 

Mrs.  Smith  drew  down  her  mouth,  while  the  face 
of  her  son  preserved,  as  it  had  from  the  beginning, 
the  most  imperturbable  gravity. 

The  family  now  addressed  themselves  with  praise 
worthy  diligence  to  the  discussion  of  the  meal ;  and 
then  Susan  as  usual  passed  her  father  the  family 
Bible,  for  their  devotions. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening,  Juliette;  after  reading 
once  more  the  scrap  of  paper  which  she  had  cut  from 
the  "  Journal  of  Commerce,"  sang  in  a  low  voice  her 
favorite  hymn,  — 

"  How  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 

To  God  the  Holy  One; 
With  filial  love  and  trust  to  say, 
O  God,  thy  will  be  done ! 

"  We  in  these  sacred  words  can  find 

A  cure  for  every  ill ; 

They  calm  and  soothe  the  troubled  mind, 
And  bid  all  care  be  still. 

"  Oh,  let  that  will  which  gave  me  breath, 

And  an  immortal  soul, 
In  joy  or  grief,  in  life  or  death, 
My  every  wish  control  1 

"  Oh,  could  my  soul  thus  ever  pray, 

Thus  imitate  thy  Son ! 
Teach  me,  O  God,  with  truth  to  say, 
'  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done.' " 

For  a  long  time  our  heroine  had  not  enjoyed  so  re 
freshing  a  slumber,  as  followed  this,  to  her,  eventful 
day.  She  awoke  feeling  more  calm  and  trustful  in  re- 


JULIETTE.  205 

gard  to  the  future ;  but  with  an  evident  quickening  of 
the  pulse,  when  the  possible  result  of  her  joining  her 
brother  Horace  flashed  through  her  mind.  She  lay  in 
the  early  morning  light,  her  eyes  fixed  on  one  of  the 
blue  flowers  on  the  wall ;  but  her  memory  far  away  in 
the  past,  gathering  up  all  the  precious  assurances  of 
his  affection.  Stamford,  and  the  scenes  of  the  past 
months  were  swept  away  at  a  breath ;  and  she  was 
once  more  sitting  by  his  side  as  on  the  last  evening 
before  he  left  the  country.  Again  she  heard  him  say 
with  a  flushed  face,  "  No,  Juliette,  I  cannot  tell  you 
all  my  reasons  for  wishing  to  postpone  my  departure." 
And  again  she  asked  herself  what  he  could  mean  by 
this,  want  of  frankness. 

"I  wonder  where  he  is  nowV'  she  said  half  aloud, 
sighing  as  she  recalled  her  truant  thoughts,  "  and 
whether  he  thinks  of  me  ?  I  suppose  long  ere  this  he 
has  made  a  profession  of  religion.  Let  me  see,  —  what 
did  he  say  about  it?"  She  sat  up  in  bed  and  reached 
from  the  table  at  her  side  a  small  box  containing  all 
the  letters  she  had  ever  received  from  him.  Smiling, 
as  she  opened  one  and  another,  she  came  at  last  to  the 
epistle  she  sought.  "How  much  he  thinks  of  his 
aunt !  I  wish  I  knew  her.  Oh,  how  delightful  it 
would  be  to  travel  with  such  a  party  !  Dear  Horace, 
what  a  kind  brother  you  have  always  been  to  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Smith's  voice  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  calling, 

"Maria!    Susan!"  interrupted  her  pleasant  reveries. 

Hastily  putting  the  precious  epistles  in  their  place,  she 

locked  the  box  and  returned  it  to  the  drawer,  woiider- 

18 


206  JULIETTE. 

ing,  while  she  took  her  bath,  what  was  the  cause  of 
her  father's  illness,  and  whether  it  had  been  severe. 

The  girls  were  talking  earnestly  in  their  own  room, 
and  Juliette,  quickly  dressing  herself,  invoked  God's 
blessing  on  all  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  then  went 
below  to  lay  the  table,  —  a  light  task  she  had  insisted 
on  performing. 

Mrs.  Smith,  who  was  busy  in  preparing  breakfast, 
greeted  her  with  a  cordial  smile,  and  asked  whether 
she  had  seen  or  heard  the  girls. 

"I  think  they'll  be  down  soon,"  answered  Juliette ; 
"I  have  heard  their  voices  for  some  time." 

"  Mr.  Smith  and  James  have  been  mowing  since  four 
o'clock,"  added  the  good  woman.  "  It's  going  to  l?e  a 
beautiful  hay-day,  and  they  expect  to  get  along  finely 
with  their  work.  Breakfast  wasn't  quite  ready  when 
they  came  in,  because  I  didn't  expect  them  so  soon,  so 
James  went  to  pitching  off  the  hay  left  on  the  cart.  I 
suppose  'twill  sound  kind  of  proud  for  me  to  say  it, 
but  there  isn't  another  in  the  whole  town  will  corne  up 
to  him  for  driving  work,  or  for  planning  it  either.  But 
I  do  wonder  where  those  lazy  girls  are  ?  " 

Before  Juliette  had  time  to  reply,  a  dreadful  shriek 
of  distress,  folio  wed  by  loud,  confused  voices,  was  heard 
from  the  barn,  and  presently  Mr.  Smith  and  one  of 
the  men  were  seen  bringing  poor  James  toward  the 
house. 

"What  is  it?  Oh,  what  has  happened?"  inquired 
the  mother,  her  heart  sinking  with  fear,  as  she  beheld 
the  deadly  pallor  of  her  beloved  son. 


JULIETTE.  207 

"Not  much,  mother,  I  hope,"  answered  the  young 
man,  speaking  with  great  difficulty. 

"Have  the  bed  ready  in  the  room  below,"  cried  the 
farmer,  sharply ;  "•  we  must  lay  him  there  till  the  doctor 
comes.  Oh,  dear ! " 

"Where  is  he  hurt?  "  asked  Juliette,  timidly  speak 
ing  to  the  man. 

"  Can't  tell,  miss ;  he's  smashed  up  generally.  He 
fell  .backwards  off  the  load  on  to  the  barn  floor." 

The  young  girl  felt  sick  and  faint ;  but  struggling 
for  composure,  she  ran  to  assist  Mrs.  Smith  in  relieving 
the  poor  sufferer. 

Before  they  had  crossed  the  parlor,  poor  James 
groaned  as  if  in  great  pain,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
lift  him  quickty  upon  the  bed,  when,  with  a  hoarse 
rattle  in  his  throat,  his  eyes  became  fixed.  He  had 
fainted. 

"Jump  on  to  the  horse,  Tom,  and  ride  for  the  doc 
tor  ! "  called  out  Mr.  Smith,  in  a  loud,  sharp  voice ; 
"  ride  for  your  life.  Mother,  have  you  got  the  cam 
phor  !  Oh,  dear,  he  looks  like  death  !  Where  are  the 
girls?  They  might  be  bathing  his  hands." 

Maria  and  Susan,  hearing  the  unusual  noise,  hastened 
below.  "What's  the  matter?  Is  anybody  hurt?  I 
smell  medicine."  They  advanced  to  the  bedroom 
where  Mrs.  Smith  was  holding  a  bottle  of  hartshorn  to 
her  son's  nostrils  ;  while  Juliette,  tears  streaming  un 
consciously  down  her  cheeks,  was  timidly  chafing 
James'  hard,  bronzed  hand. 

Mr.  Smith,  overcome  with  grief,  had  retired  to  the 


208  JULIETTE. 

parlor,  where  he  was  weeping  aloud,  "  O  James ! 
James  !  I'm  afraid  you've  got  your  death-blow  !  Oh, 
dear  !  Never  father  had  such  a  son,  so  smart  to  work, 
and  with  such  a  tender  heart.  Spare  him,  O  God ! 
Take  him  not  away  in  his  youth  !  Oh  !  oh  !  what  shall 
I  do?  what  shall  I  do?" 

Trembling  with  anxiety,  Mrs.  Smith  bent  earnestly 
over  her  boy,  when,  with  a  slight  contraction  of  the 
brow,  and  a  long-drawn  sigh,  he  feebly  opened  his 
eyes. 

"  He's  reviving,"  cried  Juliette,  tears  gushing  from 
her  eyes.  "  He  knows  us  ! " 

Even  at  such  a  moment  a  thrill  of  joy  ran  through 
the  young  man's  frame  as  he  met  her  glance  of  tender 
interest,  and  became  conscious  that  she  held  his  hand 
in  hers.  A  groan  of  distress,  forced  from  him  by  his 
terrible  pain,  followed.  The  pallor  about  his  mouth 
increased,  and  he  seemed  about  to  faint  again.  "Is 
the  doctor  —  coming?"  he  asked  feebly,  gasping  at 
every  breath,  and,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to.  repress 
them,  his  groans  filled  the  room. 

Susan,  crying  aloud,  ran  to  the  door  to  watch  for  the 
doctor,  while  Maria,  hastening  to  the  parlor  to  beg  her 
father  to  be  more  composed,  found  Juliette  sitting  on 
the  stairs  almost  ready  to  faint  with  terror. 

Lifting  up  her  heart  to  God  for  strength  to  meet  this 
terrible  calamity,  Mrs.  Smith,  pale,  but  outwardly 
calm,  continued  vigorously  to  chafe  the  cold  limbs  from 
which  life  seemed  almost  departed. 

Susan  ran  like  one  distracted  from  the  bedroom  to 


JULIETTE.  209 

the  door,  and  back  again,  in  the  vain  expectation  of 
seeing  the  doctor's  buggy  approach. 

Mr.  Smith  at  last  grew  so  impatient  for  his  arrival, 
that,  after  one  glance  at  his  suffering  boy,  he  set  out 
with  rapid  strides  for  the  village. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  after  the  sad  accident  that 
the  anxious  watcher  perceived  a  carriage  dashing  furi 
ously  down  the  hill,  and,  as  it  drew  nearer,  recognized 
it  as  the  doctor's  well-known  vehicle. 

"Come  quickly!  I'll  tie  the  horse,"  she  cried, 
earnestly  ;  "James  is  dreadfully  hurt." 

"Not  so  badly,  perhaps,  as  you  imagine,"  he  an 
swered,  taking  his  box  of  medicines  and  making  his 
way  quickly  to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  We're  glad  enough  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs.  Smith. 
"  lie  seems  terrible  faint.  I've  had  as  much  as  I  could 
do  to  keep  life  in  him." 

"  Have  you  any  brandy  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  I  think  there  is  a  little  left  in  the  phial." 

James,  in  the  midst  of  his  distress,  heard  his  ques 
tion  and  what  was  passing,  and  made  a  dissenting 
motion  with  his  hand. 

"  He  means  to  say  he  has  promised  not  to  taste  it," 
explained  his  mother.  "  He  belongs  to  the  Sons  of 
Temperance." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  "  I'll  absolve  him 
nowr.  A  few  drops  may  be  necessary  to  save  his  life." 

Maria,  who  had  run  to  get  the  phial,  now  presented 
it  to  the  doctor,  who  gave  him  a  teaspoonful,  clear. 

"Now,"  said  he,  in  an  encouraging  tone,  "some  of 

18* 


210  JULIETTE. 

you  must  go  out  of  the  room  ;  I  must  make  an  exami 
nation.  Where's  your  pain,  James?" 

Susan  and  her  sister  ran  away  just  as  their  father, 
accompanied  by  Dudley,  drove  into  the  yard. 

Tom,  after  going  for  the  doctor,  had  called  at  the 
store  to  tell  the  sad  news,  and  the  young  man,  leaving 
his  business  with  his  clerk,  made  all  haste  to  go  to  the 
farm  and  offer  his  services.  On  the  way  he  overtook 
Mr.  Smith,  who  related  the  particulars  of  the  accident. 

"After  mowing  an  hour  or  two,"  he 'began,  "we 
thought  'twas  breakfast-time  and  went  up  to  the  house. 
Mother  said  'twasu't  quite  ready ;  so  I  went  out  to  see 
to  the  cattle,  and  James,  hating  to  lose  a  minute,  said 
he'd  be  pitching  off  the  load  we  got  in  before  the 
shower  yesterday.  He  ran  up  the  ladder  to  the  mow, 
jumped  on  the  cart,  and  had  not  thrown  off  but  three 
or  four  forks  full,  when  I  heard  a  terrible  noise,  as  if 
the  barn  was  coming  down.  Tom  screamed  for  help. 
I  ran  in  to  the  barn  floor,  and  there  was  my  poor  boy 
lying  just  as  he  fell,  backwards  off  the  cart,  his  fork 
across  his  feet.  He  lay  perfectly  still,  and  my  heart 
stopped  beating,  for  I  thought  he  was  dead.  I  guess 
my  scream  of  terror  brought  him  to  a  little,  for  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  gazed  about  kind  of  wild."  The 
father  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  groaned 
aloud,  while  his  companion,  feeling  there  was  little 
comfort  he  could  offer,  rode  silently  by  his  side. 

It  seemed  a  long,  weary  time  to  the  excited,  anxious 
group  outside  the  bedroom,  before  Mrs.  Smith,  who 
had  insisted  on  remaining  near  her  sou,  appeared  among 


JULIETTE.  211 

them  to  say  the  doctor  thought  a  broken  shoulder  and 
two  broken  ribs  was  the  extent  of  the  injury.  The 
setting  of  the  shoulder  was  very  painful  for  the  time  ; 
but  now  the  poor  fellow^, was  greatly  relieved,  and 
would  be  glad  to  see  them. 

The  grateful  father  hastened  to  the  sick  room,  his 
heart  overflowing  with  love  and  praise  to  his  heavenly 
Father,  who  had  so  graciously  spared  his  son's  life, 
while  the  mother  made  a  slice  of  toast,  which,  with  a 
cup  of  coffee,  the  physician  had  ordered  for  his  patient. 

Susan,  after  running  to  Juliette's  room  to  convey  the 
joyful  tidings,  set  the  long  delayed  breakfast  on  the 
table. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Edwards?"  inquired  James,  as  an 
hour  or  two  later  his  mother  entered  his  room. 

"  Poor  child  !  she  looks  terribly  pale  and  drooping. 
She  ran  off  while  the  doctor  was  here,  'cause  she 
couldn't  bear  to  hear  you  groan.  She's  in  the  kitchen 
now,  helping  the  girls.  They  thought  I  could  do  bet 
ter  in  here." 

"  Would  you  mind,  mother,  asking  her  in  here  a 
minute  ?  " 

She  glanced  anxiously  at  his  pale  face,  tinged  with 
the  faintest  flush,  and  then  went  out  to  do  as  he  re 
quested.  She  sighed,  however,  as  she  said  to  herself, 
"  He's  building  hopes  on  her  feeling  so  much  for  him  ; 
but  it's  no  use.  I  wish  I  might  tell  him  what  I  know  of 
her  history." 

When  she  entered  the  kitchen  Juliette  was  shelling 
some  peas.  The  mother  herself  was  embarrassed,  in 


212  JULIETTE. 

making  the  request,  but  after  a  minute  said,  "I  must 
be  working  over  my  butter,  girls,  or  I  can't  do  it  to 
day.  Perhaps  you  will  sit  with  James  a  little  while," 
she  added,  turning  to  Juliette. 

The  young  girl  looked  frightened.  "What  if  he 
should  faint  again?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  Oh,  there's  no  danger  of  that,  my  dear  child ! 
When  he  lies  still,  he  says  he  don't  suffer  much.  'Twas 
his  broken  shoulder  that  distressed  him  so ;  and  the 
doctor  said  the  way  he  was  laid  on  the  bed  made  it  ten 
times  worse.  You  may  take  your  peas  in  there,  if 
you'd  rather." 

Juliette  rose,  though  rather  reluctantly.  The  vision 
of  his  pallid,  ghastly  countenance  was  still  before  her. 
Mrs.  Smith  accompanied  her,  carrying  the  pan,  which 
she  set  down  just  inside  the  bedroom  door. 

"If  he  wants  anything,  speak  to  me,"  she  said,  and 
then,  smoothing  back  his  damp  hair  from  his  forehead, 
returned  to  her  work. 

The  young  girl  timidly  approached  the  bed.  "  How 
do  you  feel?"  she  asked,  speaking  scarcely  above  her 
breath. 

"Very  comfortable  and  very  grateful,"  was  his 
gentle  reply. 

She  stood  a  moment  looking  at  his  shoulder,  which 
was  tightly  bandaged.  "Doesn't  it  pain  you? "she 
inquired. 

"Not  much.  The  doctor  relieved  me  very  quickly." 
He  colored,  and  tried  to  say  something,  but  had  not 
the  courage. 


JULIETTE.  213 

"I'll  shell  the  peas  here,  if  it  wont  disturb  you," 
she  added,  in  a  more  cheerful  tone. 

"No,  let  me  shell  them;  I  can  do  them  easily  with 
my  right  hand." 

She  laughed.  "  No,  indeed  !  Your  mother  put  me 
here  to  watch  you,  and  I  shall  be  a  very  strict  nurse. 
You  must  not  stir,  nor  scarcely  breathe,  while  I  stay. 
You  see,  I  mean  to  do  all  I  can  to  help  you  get  well." 

"  Juliette ! " 

He  had  never  called  her  so  before,  and  she  smiled  as 
she  looked  up  from  her  work. 

"You  can't  imagine  what' a  comfort  it  was  to  me,  this 
morning,  to  have  you  here.  I  couldn't  speak  then,  but 
I've  been  wanting  ever  since  to  tell  you  so." 

She  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  blushed  deeply ;  not  so 
much  at  the  words,  but  at  the  look  which  accompanied 
them. 

"It  was  terrible  to  see  you  suffer  so,"  she  answered, 
softly. 

Her  heart  beat  quickly,  and  she  began  to  be  impa 
tient  for  Mrs.  Smith  or  one  of  the  girls  to  take  her 
place.  She  went  on  steadily  with  her  work,  however, 
not  venturing  to  raise  her  eyes. 

He  seemed  more  than  content  to  watch  her  varying 
color,  and  built  airy  castles  upon  her  seeming  confu 
sion,  which,  alas  !  were  destined  to  fall  to  the  ground. 

r  How  do  you  get  on  with  your  patient  ? "  queried 
Susan,  coming  softly  behind  her  young  friend. 

"  You  must  ask  him.  I'm  afraid  I  am  not  a  very 
good  nurse." 


214  JULIETTE. 

"  I  should  be  content  to  be  sick  all  my  life,  with  such 
care,  if  that  was  the  will  of  God,"  returned  James, 
warmly. 

Juliette  was  really  distressed,  and  blamed  herself 
for  the  answer  she  had  given.  She  took  up  her  pan 
and  quietly  went  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Susan  in 
charge  of  her  brother. 

From  this  time,  though  she  frequently  visited  him 
for  a  moment,  it  was  always  in  company  with  one  of 
the  family,  and  her  manner,  without  being  reserved, 
was  such  that  he  had  not  courage  to  tell  her  one  word 
of  that  love  of  which  his  heart  was  so  full. 

On  Sabbath  morning,  Mr.  Smith,  in  his  prayer,  sup 
plicated  special  grace  for  her  who  was  on  that  clay  to 
take  upon  herself  the  vows  of  God,  and  to  partake  of 
the  Saviour's  body  broken  for  sin,  in  commemoration 
of  his  dying  love. 

Since  James's  accident  prayer  had  been  offered  in  the 
room  adjoining  his.  Juliette  was  much  affected,  and, 
as  they  arose,  was  about  to  retire,  when  he  called  her 
by  name. 

She  hesitated  a  jnoment,  and  then,  seeing  his  mother 
was  with  him,  approached  the  bed. 

"It's  the  greatest  trial  I've  had  yet,"  he  said,  deeply 
moved,  "not  to  go  to  church  to-day.  But  though  I'm 
obliged  to  lie  in  bed  at  home,  my  heart  will  be  there, 
and  I  shall  pray  that  it  may  be  a  day  of  peace  to  your 
soul." 

His  countenance  was  lighted  with  heavenly  fervor, 


JULIETTE.  215 

as  if  the  spirit  of  that  peace  which  passeth  all  under 
standing  was  dwelling  in  him. 

Her  own  face  reflected  the  light  from  his,  as  she 
earnestly  uttered  her  thanks.  She  retired  to  her  own 
apartment,  feeling  that  such  prayers  would  prove 
indeed  a  blessing. 

The  day  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  As  she  re 
ceived  the  elements  of  her  Saviour's  love,  and  realized 
that  His  blood  had  been  shed  for  her  salvation,  her 
heart  overflowed  with  gratitude.  She  fervently  re 
newed  her  vows  to  him  and  to  his  service,  and  con 
sidered  no  sacrifice  too  great,  to  be  counted  among  his 
disciples. 

The  distance  was  so  great,  and  the  intermission  so 
short,  that  the  family  from  the  farm  usually  remained 
until  after  the  second  service ;  but  Mrs.  Smith,  being 
anxious  concerning  her  son,  returned  after  the  admin 
istration  of  the  sacrament,  her  husband  coming  back 
in  season  for  the  afternoon  sermon. 

After  tea,  as  they  were  sitting  together  in  the  parlor, 
James  requested  his  sisters  to  sing. 

Susan  had  a  very  sweet  treble  voice,  and  Maria  sung 
a  good  alto.  They  brought  out  the  books,  and,  with 
Dudley  as  a  leader,  passed  an  hour  pleasantly  in  sing 
ing  from  Mason's  Choir ;  Juliette,  though  pressed  to 
join  them,  declaring  she  would  much  prefer  to  be  a 
listener. 

At  last  Susan,  in  answer  to  her  brother's  call,  went 
to  his  bed,  when  she  received  a  message  from  him  to 
her  young  friend. 


216  JULIETTE. 

w  James  wants  to  have  you  sing  the  hymn  he  has 
heard  from  your  room.  Do  please  gratify  him,  and  all 
of  us,  if  you  can." 

Juliette  consented,  though  she  blushed  deeply  as  she 
said,  "I  have  seldom  sung  it  without  my  harp  ;  but  I 
will  do  my  best."  Then,  with  a  voice  rarely  equalled 
in  richness  and  pathos,  she  commenced  the  hymn  I 
have  already  given  to  the  reader. 

Her  little  audience  held  their  breath  to  listen ;  and 
when  she  had  finished,  begged  so  warmly  for  another 
and  yet  another  hymn,  that  she  could  not  refuse  to 
gratify  them. 

Poor  James  was  glad  that  she  could  not  witness  the 
emotion  her  singing  produced  on  him.  His  whole  soul 
was  entranced,  his  breast  heaved,  while  big  tears 
coursed  down  his  manly  cheeks.  "  Tell  her,"  said  he, 
to  his  sister,  "  that  she  has  done  me  good  ;  that  I  have 
no  words  to  thank  her." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  On  you,  most  loved,  with  anxious  fear  I  wait, 
And  from  your  judgment  must  expect  my  fate." 

AFTER  the  lapse  of  a  week,  James  began  to  be  im 
patient  of  his  confinement  to  the  bed,  and,  with 
much  urging,  persuaded  the  physician  to  allow  him  to  sit 
up  in  an  easy-chair,  his  arm  supported  in  a  sling  and 
propped  Ijy  pillows.  For  greater  convenience  the 
chair  was  placed  in  the  common  sitting-room,  where  he 
could  be  pushed  to  the  table  during  their  meals,  which 
was  considered  a  great  improvement  by  the  young  man 
upon  the  mode  of  eating  by  himself. 

One  day  Susan,  who  had  been  to  the  village  on  an 
errand,  ran  into  the  room,  exclaiming,  "Only  guess, 
James,  who  I  saw  this  morning  !  But  I  don't  believe 
you'll  guess  right  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  Somebody 
who  inquired  for  you  and  blushed  rosy-red  when  I  told 
her  you  were  sick." 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  asked  her  brother.,  his  own  color 
deepening  as  he  saw  Juliette's  eyes  fixed  with  a  pecu 
liar  expression  upon  him. 

"  You're  real  stupid  not  to  know,  when  I've  told  you 
so  much.  Why,  it's  Josey  Attvvood.  She's  coming 

19  217 


218  JULIETTE. 

here  to  pass  the  afternoon,  and  her  cousin  with  her, 
who  has  been  in  the  Lowell  factory.  Josey  as  much 
as  told  me  she'd  come  before  I  had  time  to  ask  her." 

James  glanced  anxiously  at  his  mother,  and  seemed 
really  annoyed,  while  Juliette's  eyes  danced  with  merri 
ment.  She  was  conscious  of  great  relief,  and  secretly 
called  herself  a  fool  for  being  miserable  at  his  fancied 
affection  for  her. 

"  I  shall  be  right  glad  to  see  Josey,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Smith.  "  She  was  always  a  favorite  of  mine ;  but  who 
is  this  cousin  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Josey  introduced  her  as 
Miss  Darley.  She  is  quite  a  dashing,  showy  girl." 

"You  don't  look  half  as  pleased  as  I  expected,"  re 
joined  Susan,  archly  gazing  into  her  brother's  face. 
"  You  used  to  say  she  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
town." 

"  How  foolish  you  do  talk  !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
man,  trying  to  conceal  his  flushed  face.  "That  was 
years  ago,  when  we  were  only  children." 

"  I  have  always  heard  those  were  the  strongest  at 
tachments  which  commenced  in  childhood,"  persisted 
the  merry  girl,  unmoved  by  her  brother's  frowns. 
"Don't  you  think  so,  Juliette?" 

"  Certainly,  I  do,"  was  the  blushing  reply,  as  the 
young  girl  recollected  that  she  had  loved  Horace  ever 
since  she  could  remember. 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  get  father  to  roll  my  chair 
into  the  bedroom,  and  stay  there  until  your  company 
has  gone,"  muttered  James,  impatiently. 


JULIETTE.  219 

"That  would  scarcely  be  civil  to  your  old  playmate, 
my  son,"  urged  Mrs.  Smith,  who  had  her  own  reasons 
for  wishing  that  his  early  affection  for  Josey  might  be 
revived. 

"Little  boys  must  try  to  be  good  when  they  are  sick, 
and  obey  their  ma's,"  added  Susan,  with  a  tone  of 
mock  gravity . 

"  And  not  be  rude  to  their  sisters'  company,"  rejoined 
Juliette,  archly. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  urged  James,  with  an  attempt  at 
a  laugh ;  "  I'm  always  thankful  for  good  advice." 

In  the  afternoon  the  young  misses  arrived  early. 
Josey  Attwood  was  in  her  eighteenth  year,  just 
Juliette's  age,  —  a  petite  figure,  but  full  of  sprightliness 
and  grace.  In  complexion  she  was  a  blonde,  with  a 
profusion  of  light  waving  hair,  combed  low  over  her 
forehead,  in  the  prevailing  mode.  Her  mouth  was  wide, 
but  well  formed,  and,  as  she  was  scarcely  ever  silent, 
displayed  continually  two  rows  of  beautiful  teeth. 

In  the  few  minutes  occupied  in  removing  her  bonnet 
and  mantilla,  Juliette  had  formed  a  very  favorable 
opinion  of  the  young  lady,  who  blushingly  inquired 
in  a  low  voice  of  Susan,  "  what  James  said  when  he 
found  she  was  coming?" 

"  Oh,  it  would  never  do  to  tell !  "  exclaimed  her  com 
panion,  coloring  a  little  at  a  roguish  glance  from 
Juliette.  "But  come  in  and  see  him." 

Our  young  heroine  had  a  natural  desire  to  witness 
James's  reception  of  his  early  friend,  and  followed  her 
and  Miss  Darley  directly  to  the  sitting-room. 


220  JULIETTE. 

It  was  really  curious  to  witness  the  embarrassment 
in  the  manner  of  the  invalid,  occasioned  by  the  sudden 
rush  of  old  memories  her  lively  presence  called  forth, 
commingled  with  the  newer  and  far  more  intense  emo 
tions  inspired  by  his  intercourse  with  Juliette.  She 
burst  upon  him  like  a  sunbeam,  her  eyes  dancing  and 
her  rosy  cheeks  rosier  with  pleasure. 

James  cordially  grasped  her  hand  in  his,  and  held  it 
a  moment  while  he  gazed  into  her  loving  eyes ;  but 
presently,  catching  a  glance  of  Juliette's  mirthful  coun 
tenance,  he  suddenly  realized  what  her  conclusions 
must  be,  and,  with  a  flush  that  mounted  to  his  brow,  he 
let  fall  her  hand,  and  turned  almost  rudely  to  the  other 
lady,  whom  his  sister  Maria  was  introducing  to  him. 

Miss  Darley  was  a  tall,  well-formed  girl*  with  a  sensi 
ble  countenance,  but  with  no  claims  to  beauty.  As 
was  learned  from  her  conversation  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon,  she  was  early  left  an  orphan ;  but  was  taken 
as  a  dependent  into  the  family  of  an  uncle.  Feeling 
unhappy  in  this  situation,  she  determined  to  make 
every  effort  to  fit  herself  for  a  teacher,  and  succeeded 
so  well  that  she  was  advanced  to  be  mistress  of  a  town 
school  when  she  was  in  her  seventeenth  year.  After 
teaching  for  two  terms,  she  accidentally  met  a  young 
friend  who  had  been  working  in  one  of  the  Lowell  fac 
tories,  and  who  represented  the  life  there  as  so  superior 
to  that  of  a  village  school-mistress  that  she  gave  up 
her  school  and  obtained  a  situation  in  the  same  factory 
with  her  friend.  She  had  now  been  an  operative  for 
three  years,  and  was  so  well  pleased  with  the  employ- 


JULIETTE.  221 

ment  that  she  would  on  no  account  exchange  it  for  that 
of  a  teacher. 

Miss  Darley  spoke  with  great  enthusiasm  of  the  priv 
ileges  the  factory  girls  enjoyed.  The  moment  the  bell 
rang  for  them  to  be  dismissed  they  were  free  to  employ 
their  time  as  they  pleased.  Many  of  them  formed 
societies  for  mutual  benefit,  when  they  read,  worked, 
and  conversed  together.  On  the  Sabbath  great  atten 
tion  was  paid  to  their  improvement  in  the  several 
churches  of  the  city,  as  they  formed  no  unimportant 
part  of  the  whole  community.  Bible  classes  with  the 
best  of  teachers  were  gathered,  and  all  who  wished 
invited  to  join. 

"But,"  suggested  Mrs.  Smith,  after  listening  with 
great  interest  to  the  animated  account,  "  I  always 
supposed  the  labor  was  severe,  and  that  it  was 
unhealthy." 

"Not  at  all,  ma'am;  certainly  not  in  the  weaving 
rooms,  where  I  work.  They  are  well  ventilated  and 
kept  with  great  neatness.  I  dare  say  it  may  be  the 
case  in  some  of  the  dye-houses,  and,  perhaps,  in  the 
woollen  factories,  where  there  is  a  bad  odor  from  the 
wool.  Then  a  good  hand  can  earn  four,  five,  or  even 
six  dollars  a  week  beside  her  board." 

After  an  early  tea,  Maria  proposed  a  walk  around 
the  farm,  to  which  all  consented  with  readiness,  except 
Josey,  who  evidently  preferred  remaining  with  James. 
"While  her  cousin  had  been  talking,  she  had  sat  busily 
engaged  with  her  work,  her  eyes  every  now  and  then 
stealing  a  glance  at  him.  Several  times  the  blood  was 
19* 


222  JULIETTE. 

sent  swiftly  coursing  through  her  veins  as  she  saw  that, 
instead  of  returning  these  glances,  his  gaze  was  fixed 
on  the  fair  girl  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  whose 
downcast  eyes,  shielded  by  her  thick,  curling  lashes, 
afforded  him  a  most  favorable  opportunity  to  contem 
plate  her  exquisitely  cut  features. 

Even  Josey,  beginning  to  be  moved  to  jealousy  of 
one  whom  she  feared  might  be  a  rival,  could  not  help 
acknowledging  to  herself  that  Miss  Edwards  was  very 
lovely.  There  was  a  purity  in  that  low,  broad  brow, 
an  expression  of  truthfulness  in  those  soft,  beaming 
eyes,  a  winning  sweetness  in  the  tiny  mouth,  an  air 
of  high  breeding  in  the  carriage  of  the  small  head,  set 
so  daintily  upon  her  shoulders,  that,  though  she  did  not 
thus  define  each  charm,  made  a  strong  impression  on 
the  beholder. 

From  being  indignant  at  his  indifference  toward  her 
self,  —  a  state  of  things  wholly  new  in  her  former  ex 
perience,  —  she  began  to  wonder  how  she  should  com 
pare  with  this  beautiful  stranger,  and  ended  by  humbly 
underrating  her  own  attractions. 

When  the  walk  was  first  proposed  she  was  pleased, 
as  she  thought  she  might  easily  find  an  excuse  for  re 
maining  within,  and  have  an  opportunity  to  come  to  a 
better  understanding  with  James.  But  when  he  so 
strenuously  urged  her  to  accompany  his  sisters,  she 
went,  carrying  a  heavy  weight  at  her  heart. 
.  Juliette,  in  passing  out,  gave  him  a  reproachful 
glance,  and,  taking  advantage  of  a  momentary  delay 
of  the  party  in  the  hall,  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  You  are 


JULIETTE.  223 

not  keeping  your  promise  to  do  your  best.  She  is  a 
very  lovely  girl." 

How  little  either  of  the  party  imagined  what  an  im 
portant  bearing  the  events  of  this  short  afternoon  would 
have  upon  the  future  destiny  of  one  of  their  number  ! 
But  I  forbear. 

Weeks  flew  by  until  the  early  sweetings,  Maria  called 
honeycombs,  were  ripe.  The  hay,  oats,  rye,  and  bar 
ley  were  gathered  in  the  barns,  though  Mr.  Smith 
would  not  consent  that  James  should  "  lift  a  hand " 
toward  the  work,  for  fear  his  shoulder  was  not  yet 
strong.  Maria  and  her  sister  were  commencing  their 
preparations  for  returning  to  school,  and  Juliette  began 
to  count  the  days  before  she  could  reasonably  expect 
an  answer  to  her  letter. 

Her  kind  pastor,  Mr.  Allen,  had  informed  her  that  a 
vessel  ordinarily  sailed  from  New  York  to  Liverpool  in 
four  weeks ;  but,  as  she  supposed  her  father  and  brother 
had  gone  directly  to  the  continent,  some  time  longer 
must  elapse  before  it  could  reach  him.  Then  the 
weeks  necessary  for  a  return  would  carry  it  quite  into 
the  autumn. 

She  tried  to  be  patient  and  submissive  to  the  will 
of  God,  whatever  it  might  be.  But  of  late  she  had 
had  some  trials,  which  were  more  severe  because  she 
was  obliged  to  keep  them  locked  in  her  own  breast, 
and  could  not  find  sympathy  from  the  motherly  heart 
of  Mrs.  Smith,  as  she  had  heretofore  done. 

Ever  since  the  visit  of  Josey  Attwood,  James  had 
been  at  times  moody  and  fitful,  wholly  unlike  his  for- 


224  JULIETTE. 

mer  easy  good  temper.  His  father  insisted  that  his 
fall  had  produced  some  injury  not  yet  wholly  revealed. 
But  his  mother,  with  a  keener  insight  into  human  na 
ture  in  general,  and  her  son's  nature  in  particular,  knew 
that  the  injury  was  in  his  heart,  and  feared  it  would 
be  difficult  to  heal.  With  Juliette's  conduct  she  was 
entirely  satisfied.  No  sooner  did  she  suspect  the  na 
ture  of  his  affection  than  she  withdrew  herself  as  much 
as  possible  from  his  society,  never  allowing  him  an  op 
portunity  to  see  her  alone. 

This  excitement,  like  every  other,  constantly  weigh 
ing  upon  her  mind,  affected  her  spirits,  and  within  a 
few  days  she  had  determined  to  relate  to  him  her  for 
mer  history ;  and  even,  if  necessary,  to  show  him  that 
he  had  no  hope  from  delay ;  to  acknowledge  that  her 
heart  was  not  in  her  own  keeping.  Once  assured  of 
this,  she  was  convinced  he  had  too  much  good  sense 
to  cherish  an  attachment  which  never  could  be  recip 
rocated. 

Having  once  made  up  her  mind  to  this  course,  she 
became  impatient  for  an  opportunity  for  its  accomplish 
ment.  In  company  with  Maria  and  Susan,  she  was 
often  invited  to  parties  of  young  persons  in  the  town. 
A  few  times  she  had  accepted  the  invitations,  but  gen 
erally  preferred  remaining  quietly  at  the  farm  with 
Mrs.  Smith.  It  happened,  just  at  this  period,  fortu 
nately  as  she  thought,  that  an  excursion  was  planned 
to  a  neighboring  village,  and  James  earnestly  invited 
her  to  accompany  him. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  wishing  first  to  consult  his 


JULIETTE.  225 

mother  ,•  but  the  good  woman,  not  understanding  her 
reason,  called  her  from  the  room  and  said,  "You  had 
better  go  this  once,  my  dear.  He  will  never  be  satis 
fied  until  he  has  told  you  his  feelings.  I'm  afraid  you 
will  think  him  a  very  foolish,  aspiring  boy." 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!  He  has  a  noble  heart  any  one 
would  be  proud  to  win ;  but  there  are  many  reasons 
why  I  cannot  return  his  affection.  My  father  away, 
and  —  " 

"I  understand  you,  my  dear;  but  James  is  waiting. 
May  I  tell  him  you  will  go?  " 

"If  you  think  it  proper  and  best.  If  I  go,  I  shall 
relate  to  him  what  I  have  already  told  you  of  my  life 
before  I  came  to  Stamford." 

"That  is  right."  Mrs.  Smith  warmly  kissed  her 
cheek,  and  then  went  to  announce  to  her  son  the  ac 
ceptance  of  his  invitation. 

The  young  farmer  had  taken  the  precaution  to  hire 
a  handsome  buggy,  —  indeed,  the  handsomest  in  the 
village,  — before  he  spoke  to  Juliette,  and  on  the  day 
appointed  drove  gayly  to  the  door,  dressed  in  his  new 
suit  of  black  broadcloth. 

As  he  stood  waiting  a  moment  for  his  companion, 
his  countenance  radiant  with  happiness,  for  the  poor 
fellow  was  building  bright  hopes  on  her  consenting  to 
accompany  him  alone,  his  mother  could  scarcely  refrain 
from  hinting  the  probable  result  of  the  excursion. 

Susan,  who,  with  Maria  and  Dudley  and  a  young 
gentleman  of  her  acquaintance,  were  to  go  in  Mr. 
Smith's  carriage,  gazed  earnestly  at  her  brother,  and 


226  JULIETTE. 

at  last  exclaimed,  in  her  own  impressive  way,  "James, 
I  never  saw  you  look  so  well.  If  I  wasn't  your  sister 
I'd  marry  you  right  off." 

At  this  moment  Juliette  appeared,  dressed  in  a  rich 
silk  she  had  never  worn  in  Stamford,  and  with  an  ex 
pensive  bracelet  of  gold  and  pearls  clasped  on  her  pol 
ished  arm,  but  with  a  pale,  troubled  countenance. 

Mrs.  Smith,  at  once  comprehending  her  reason  for 
this  cK;bge  in  her  hitherto  strictly  plain  attire,  smiled 
her  approval ;  and,  with  many  charges  to  her  son  to 
bring  the  young  girl  home  in  safety,  bowed  her  adieu 
as  they  drove  away. 

Poor  James  !  He  had  passed  half  the  night  before 
in  composing  a  suitable  speech  for  this  occasion ;  but 
now,  as  he  was  seated  by  the  side  of  this  richly  dressed 
lady,  her  round,  slender  arm,  encircled  with  an  orna 
ment  costing  more  than  all  he  was  worth  in  the  world, 
lying  so  daintily  across  her  lap,  just  within  his  line  of 
vision,  it  seemed  preposterous,  absurd,  and  he  dis 
carded  it  in  disgust. 

"But  how  shall  I  tell  her?"  he  soliloquized,  as  they 
swiftly  made  their  way  toward  the  rendezvous  of  the 
party.  "I  can't,  and  wont  bear  this  any  longer,  while 
I  have  a  tongue  to  speak,  or  ears  to  hear  her  reply. 
Somehow  or  other  I  must  end  my  suspense  this  after 
noon  ;  but  it's  a  terrible  job.  I'd  rather  cradle  the 
biggest  piece  of  oats  I  ever  saw  ;  "  and,  taking  his  white 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  he  wiped  the  perspira 
tion,  which  seemed  oozing  from  every  pore  of  his  face. 

Juliette  —  I   am   sorry  to  be  obliged  to  say   it  — 


JULIETTE.  227 

smiled,  —  yes,  smiled,  when  she  ought  to  have  shed 
tears  over  the  downfall  of  his  dearest  hopes.  She  sus 
pected  the  cause  of  his  confusion,  and  determined  to 
forestall  the  declaration  she  saw  he  was  gathering  cour 
age  to  make.  All  at  once  she  began  to  talk  in  her 
gayest  tone,  pointing  out  the  beauties  of  the  landscape, 
and  asking  who  lived  in  this  house,  and  who  in  the 
cottage  back  in  the  fields. 

"How  far  is  it  from  Stamford  to  A ?"  she 

inquired. 

"About  ten  miles;  but  there  is  an  early  moon,  and 
at  any  rate  I  don't  mean  to  be  late." 

Standing  near  the  village  school-house  were  car 
riages  of  every  description,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
remainder  of  the  party.  James  drove  up  to  the  door, 
snapping  his  whip  in  style ;  but  Juliette  preferred  not 
to  alight. 

"  Our  young  farmer  seems  to  be  in  high  clover," 
muttered  a  man  in  an  open  carriage  near  them.  "  "Tisn't 
every  one  can  have  a  chance  to  ride  in  'Squire  Lyman's 
new  buggy,  with  a  girl  as  handsome  as  a  picter  a-sitting 
by  the  side  of  him." 

Juliette's  face  was  crimson.  She  snatched  down  her 
veil,  and  tried  to  turn  her  head  away. 

James  colored,  too,  but  it  was  with  pleasure.  "  No," 
said  he,  in  a  tone  meant  only  for  her  ear,  "I  wouldn't 
change  my  place  this  afternoon  for  that  of  a  king  on 
his  throne." 

One  company  after  another  arrived,  and  soon  the 
signal  was  given  for  starting  away.  Dudley  Hough- 


228  JULIETTE. 

ton,  as  the  projector  of  the  excursion,  led  the  proces 
sion,  and  James  Smith  followed  him. 

"Now  is  my  time,"  thought  Juliette.  "I  am  deter 
mined  to  save  him  the  mortification  of  being  refused  ;  " 
but,  before  she  could  choose  words  to  commence,  her 
companion,  summoning  all  his  courage,  said, — 

"  Miss  Edwards,  perhaps  you  can  imagine  why  I  in 
vited  you  to  come  with  me  alone  this  afternoon. 
From  the  time  you  alighted  from  the  carriage  the  day 
you  came  home  with  our  girls,  looking  so  pale  and  sad, 
I've  loved  you.  When  you  gazed  so  wistfully  in 
mother's  eyes,  and  flew  to  her  arms  like  a  poor  bird 
scared  from  its  nest,  I  made  a  vow  to  myself  that  while 
I  had  arms  strong  enough  to  earn  you  a  home,  you 
should  have  one.  I  loved  you  then,  a  stranger  as  you 
was  to  all  of  us.  I  saw  truth  and  purity  in  every 
action ;  but,  O  Juliette !  words  can't  express  how 
much  Llove  you  now.  I  know  I'm  an  ignorant  coun 
try  farmer,  earning  my  living  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow  ; 
I  know  I  am  unsuited  to  you  in  many  things,  refined, 
delicate,  and  accomplished  as  you  are  ;  but,  if  you  will 
only  say  you'll  try  to  return  my  love,  I'll  pledge  my 
self,  before  the  God  we  both  try  to  serve,  to  devote  my 
life  to  making  you  happy." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  Father  of  spirits,  hear! 
Look  on  the  inmost  heart  to  thee  revealed; 
Look  on  the  fountain  of  the  burning  tear." 

POOR  Juliette  !  Several  times  she  had  endeavored 
to  interrupt  him,  but  her  fast-flowing  tears  and 
the  eagerness  with  which  he  was  borne  on  by  his  feel 
ings  prevented  her.  As  soon  as  she  could  speak  she 
said,  "Don't,  James!  Don't  say  any  more!  You 
make  me  very  unhappy." 

The  young  farmer  gasped  for  breath.  He  knew  by 
the  sad  tone  of  her  voice  that  his  suit  was  a  hopeless 
one. 

"I  do  love  you,  James,"  she  added,  softly  laying 
her  hand  on  his  arm;  "love  you  as  a  dear,  warm 
hearted  Christian  brother.  I  will  not  pretend  that  I 
have  misunderstood  your  many  acts  of  kindness ;  but  I 
hoped  to  spare  you  this  avowal  by  telling  you  some 
things  about  myself." 

"  Nothing  you  can  tell  me  of  that  kind  will  alter  my 
feelings,"  said  the  young  man,  in  such  a  tone  of  utter 
despondence  that  her  tears  flowed  afresh. 

"I  knew  you  had  suffered,"  he  added,  sighing; 
"  but  I  loved  you  the  more  on  that  account.  Oh  !  I 

1     20  229 


230  JULIETTE. 

have  longed  so  to  make  you  happy,  to  try  to  have  you 
forget  the  past." 

"James,  James,  you  will  break  my  heart!  You 
are  too  good,  too  noble,  not  to  have  a  wife  who  can, 
with  her  whole  soul,  return  your  affection.  James,  I 
love  one  I  knew  long  before  I  met  you,  and  I  am  very 
unhappy,  too." 

He  started,  and  gazed  at  her  in  silence  for  a  mo 
ment.  "Whew!"  he  exclaimed ;" I  wonder  I  never 
thought  of  that.  I  can  scarcely  credit  it  that  any  one 
you  loved  could  treat  you  ill." 

"He  has  not.  He  is  good  and  kind.  We  were 
brought  up  like  brother  and  sister,  our  parents  having 
married.  But  he  is  gone  away  for  years,  and  I  am  a 
poor  wanderer,  turned  from  my  father's  house  because 
I  would  not  deny  my  Saviour. " 

James's  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  Wicked  wretch  ! "  he 
exclaimed. 

"Oh,  don't  say  so!"  she  cried  in  agony.  "He  is 
my  father,  my  beloved,  indulgent  father ;  indulgent  in 
everything  but  this.  Yet  he  was  brought  up  with  bit 
ter  prejudices  against  religion,  and  he  really  believes 
that  he  is  saving  me  from  great  unhappiness.  Of  late, 
I  have  often  thought  of  going  to  my  grandfather's  ;  but 
I  fear  he  would  oppose  me  even  more  than  my  father 
has  done." 

The  young  man  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  last  re 
mark.  There  was  a  terrible  struggle  going  on  in  his 
breast.  His  hopes  of  happiness  with  her  he  loved  with 
the  whole  strength  of  his  manly  heart  were  suddenly 


JULIETTE.  231 

blasted ;  and  at  first  he  could  not  be  resigned  to  his 
fate.  "It  is  worse  than  death,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  cannot  endure  it."  But  James  was  a  Christian,  and 
believed  that  for  such  all  things  were  ordered  for  good. 
His  heart  went  up  to  the  throne  of  grace  in  an  earnest 
petition  for  strength  and  submission  to  the  will  of  his 
heavenly  Father ;  and  while  he  asked,  God  answered. 
Turning  his  glistening  eyes  full  upon  hers,  he  said  iu 
a  subdued  voice,  "Juliette,  it  is  over  now.  At  first  I 
was  stunned.  I  had  hoped  you  could  learn  to  love 
me  ;  but  that  is  past  forever.  You  say  you  were  turned 
from  home  because  you  loved  your  Saviour.  I  hope 
he  is  my  Saviour,  too,  and  for  his  sake  I  offer  you  a 
home  as  long  as  you  can  be  happy  with  us.  You  say 
you  love  me  as  a  brother,  and  here  I  pledge  you  a 
brother 's  love  and  support."  His  lips  quivered  with 
ill-concealed  emotion,  while  he  held  out  his  ungloved 
hand,  which  she  caught  in  both  of  hers  and  pressed 
to  her  lips.  "  Now  let  me  say  one  thing  more,"  he  re 
joined,  when  he  could  command  his  voice,  "I  want 
you  to  promise  that  if  ever  you  need  my  services,  you 
will  call  upon  me.  You  can't  imagine  how  much  good 
it  would  do  me  to  be  of  use  to  you.  Don't  be  afraid  I 
shall  misinterpret  your  feelings ;  for  after  what  has 
passed  between  us  I  shall  never  hope,  as  I  have  done. 
No,  I  want  you  to  forget  all  that ;  or  just  to  remember 
it  when  it  wont  give  you  pain  ;  only  let  me  feel,  after 
this,  that  I  am  your  out-and-out  friend.  Maybe  I 
shall  be  dull  at  times  ;  "  and  he  heaved  a  dreadful  sigh 
as  he  bewail  to  realize  what  a  terrible  void  had  been 


232  JULIETTE. 

made  in  his  heart.  w  But  God  will  give  me  strength  to 
endure  it.  I  think  I  might  even  be  happy  if  I  could 
see  you  so. 

"  There,  don't  cry  so,  Juliette.  I  may  call  my  sis 
ter,  Juliette  ?  "  She  could  only  nod  her  assent.  <(  Do 
let  me  comfort  you ; "  and  he  choked  down  a  sob  that 
threatened  to  suffocate  him. 

"You  have  comforted  me,"  sobbed  the  weeping 
girl ;  "  you  do  not  know  how  thankful  I  am.  I  think 
God  turned  your  heart  to  me  in  answer  to  my  prayers. 
I  shall  always  thank  him  for  giving  me  so  good,  so 
kind,  so  noble  a  brother.  I  came  to  Stamford  so  des 
olate,  and  now  I  have  a  father,  mother,  brother  and 
two  sisters.  Yes,"  she  added,  after  a  momentary 
pause,  and  becoming  more  composed,  "  my  Father  in 
heaven  has  fulfilled  his  promise'  to  me.  lie  has 
raised  me  up  friends  who  have  comforted  me  in  my 
sorrow." 

They  rode  on  for  some  time  in  silence  ;  and  then  she 
began  to  talk  of  her  step-mother,  of  her  early  death, 
the  agony  of  her  father,  her  removal  to  the  school,  her 
happiness  when  she  began  to  love  her  Saviour,  her 
return  to  New  York,  her  sin  in  entering  into  the  dissi 
pations  of  the  gay  city,  her  determination  to  break 
away  from  them,  and  the  sad  result  which  followed. 

These  she  dwelt  upon  at  length,  James  listening 
with  rapt  attention  and  expressing  his  sympathy  in  his 
own  peculiar  manner.  When  she  stopped,  he  said 
softly,  "Tell  me  of  him." 

The  name  of  Horace  she  had  purposely  omitted, 


JULIETTE.  233 

fearing  it  would  give  him  pain.  At  his  request,  how 
ever,  though  with  a  heightened  color,  she  spoke  of  his 
early  life,  how  kind  he  was  to  her,  how  considerate  of 
her  wishes  ;  then  when  they  were  separated,  how  often 
he  had  written  her,  and  when  he  was  in  college  how 
frequent  were  his  visits  to  Mrs.  Osborn's  school. 
She  told  him  of  their  residence  under  her  father 's  roof ; 
how  a  remark  she  made  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  sub 
ject  of  religion,  and  then,  when  he  saw  her  becoming 
more  and  more  conformed  to  the  world  and  passing 
her  life  in  the  vain  pursuit  after  pleasure,  how  he  had 
feared  for  her  and  warned  her ;  and  last,  she  spoke  of 
his  departure  for  Europe,  and,  with  a  choking  voice, 
of  the  tenderness  of  his  farewell. 

"I  always  thought  my  brother  Horace  superior  to 
any  man  I  knew,  except  my  father,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  deep  blush ;  "  but  I  never  knew  how  much  I 
loved  him  till  he  was  gone." 

All  this  James  heard,  smothering  the  pain  her 
frank  avowal  gave  him,  and  then,  in  his  honest, 
hearty  way,  said,  "I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  with 
him  that  you  deserve.  He  must  be  worthy,  or  you 
could  not  love  him  as  you  do." 

"Thank  you!"  cried  Juliette,  fervently.  "I  may 
never  see  him  again,  though  I  hope  to ;  but  if  I  do 
not,  T  never  shall  be  married." 

"No,  you  ought  not;"  he  answered  manfully.  "I 
have  often  thought  that  no  life  could  be  so  miserable 
as  to  be  married  to  one  person  and  love  another." 

"That  would  be  one  reason,  if  there  were  no  other, 

20* 


234  JULIETTE. 

James,"  said  Juliette,  looking  archly  in  his  face,  "why 
I  could  not  have  married  you.  Only  think  how 
wretched  we  should  both  have  felt,  if,  too  late,  you 
should  have  discovered  that,  after  all,  you  loved  that 
sweet  girl  you  have  known  all  your  life." 

" Poor  Josey  !  "  murmured  James.  "I'm  afraid 
she  thought  me  very  unkind.  Well,  I  shall  know  how 
to  sympathize  with  her,  now ; "  and  he  resolutely  re 
pressed  a  sigh. 

"  But  here  we  are.  I  shall  never  forget  this  ride. 
How  short  it  has  been  !  " 

On  alighting  from  the  carriage  Juliette  found  Ma 
ria  and  Susan  waiting  to  conduct  her  to  the  anteroom 
adjoining  the  hall,  where  supper  was  to  be  served. 
Just  before  they  were  leaving  it  for  a  promenade 
around  the  tables,  our  heroine  perceived  Josey  Att- 
wood  standing  near  a  middle-aged  man,  gazing  sorrow 
fully  at  their  group. 

"I  do  pity  Josey,"  whispered  Susan.  "There  she 
is  with  her  sister  and  brother-in-law.  She  refused 
ever  so  many  invitations  from  the  young  men.  She's 
a  great  favorite  with  all  of  them." 

"I  suppose  she  has  accompanied  your  brother  on 
similar  occasions,"  answered  her  companion,  calmly. 

"Yes." 

"Let's  go  and  invite  her  now.  I  see  a  number  of 
the  gentleman  have  a  lady  on  each  arm.  I'm  sure 
James  will  enjoy  having  his  old  friend  in  our  com 
pany.  " 

Susan  gave  a  piercing  glance  into  Juliette's  ani- 


JULIETTE.  235 

mated  countenance  ;  then,  unmindful  of  the  presence  of 
others,  suddenly  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her  warm 
ly,  whispering,  "You're  the  dearest  girl  that  ever 
was ! " 

"Come!"  exclaimed  Juliette,  putting  her  hand 
within  James's  arm,  "  we're  going  over  to  talk  with 
Josey." 

-As  they  made  their  way  through  the  crowd,  who 
were  talking  and  laughing  gayly,  she  added  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I'm  going  to  use  one  of  my  privileges  as  a  sis 
ter  and  offer  your  disengaged  arm  to  a  friend." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  he  answered,  coloring;  "but  I'm 
afraid  it  will  only  make  matters  worse." 

The  young  girl  saw  them  approaching,  and  turned 
quickly  away  to  hide  her  tears.  But  Susan,  hastily 
disengaging  her  arm  from  that  of  the  gentleman  who* 
accompanied  her,  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  hand. 
"  We  all  want  you  with  us,"  she  said  eagerly. 

Josey  turned  a  wistful  glance  toward  James  and  his 
companion,  when  the  former,  urged  by  a  slight  pres 
sure  of  his  arm,  added,  "Yes,  come  with  us.  It  seems 
odd  not  to  have  you  in  our  party."  And  offering  her 
his  arm,  she  blushingly  accepted  it,  and  they  at  once 
joined  the  procession  which  had  begun  to  form  around 
the  room. 

Juliette  talked  and  laughed,  and  gave  them  no  time 
to  feel  awkward.  And  in  her  disinterested  effort  to  pro 
mote  kind  feeling  between  her  two  companions,  she 
entered  into  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  until  she 
became  the  life  of  the  whole  company. 


236  JULIETTE. 

When  they  returned  to  the  anteroom  to  don  their 
outer  garments,  Juliette,  who  had  planned  a  little  proj 
ect  of  her  own,  drew  Josey  aside  and  said,  "You 
know  James  and  I  have  adopted  one  another  for  broth 
er  and  sister ;  so  for  his  sake  you  must  love  me  a  lit 
tle.  We  came  in  a  buggy ;  but  as  you  and  I  are  both 
small,  there  will  be  plenty  of  room,  and  you  shall  re 
turn  with  us." 

Poor  Josey 's  lips  quivered ;  she  choked,  then 
burst  into  tears.  At  last  she  answered,  speaking  with 
difficulty,  "Thank  you,  I'm  sure;  but  I'm  afraid 
James  wont  like  it.  He  don't  treat  me  at  all  as  he 
used  to." 

Juliette  was  really  distressed.  She  was  too  truth 
ful  to  assert  that  he  would  probably  wish  her  company  ; 
l)ut  presently,  with  a  bright  thought,  she  exclaimed, 
"I  have  noticed  a  difference  in  James  since  he  was 
sick.  He  has  had  some  things  to  trouble  him ;  so  we 
must  do  all  we  can  for  his  comfort." 

Josey's  countenance  beamed  with  sympathy.  "I'll 
do  anything  in  the  world  I  can  for  him ;  and,  if  he 
don't  object,  I  will  ride  in  your  carriage  with  pleas 
ure. 

Mrs.  Smith  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  James 
and  Juliette  riding  up  to  the  door  in  such  good  spirits, 
and,  while  her  son  went  home  with  the  buggy,  still 
more  so  to  hear  Susan's  lively  account  of  the  excur 
sion. 

"I  do  believe  our  Juliette  is  a  witch,  mother ;  and 
we  ought  to  be  thankful  that  she  didn't  live  in  the 


JULIETTE.  237 

old  times,  or  she  would  have  been  hung.  In  the  first 
place,  the  eyes  of  all  the  gentlemen,  present  company 
always  excepted,"  making  a  low  bow  to  Dudley, 
"  were  fixed  upon  her,  to  the  utter  neglect  of  their  own 
lady-loves,  while  nothing  could  be  talked  of  but  Miss 
Edwards, —  Miss  Edwards's  bright  eyes,  Miss  Ed- 
wards's  brilliant  color,  her  silky  curls,  her  ease,  digni 
ty,  and  grace  in  company." 

Susy  stopped  to  recover  her  breath,  but  presently 
resumed.  "Then,  in  the  second  place,  she  so  be 
witched  our  James  that  he  didn't  know  whether  he 
was  on  his  head  or  feet.  And  there  he  strutted  about, 
with  her  on  one  arm  and  Josey  on  the  other,  the  envy 
of  half  the  beaux  and  the  detestation  of  the  other 
half." 

"It's  all  true,  mother,"  added  Maria,  when  the- 
shout  of  merriment  had  subsided.  "  I  wont  even  ex 
cept  Dudley ;  for  I  caught  his  eyes  playing  truant 
more  than  once." 

Mrs.  Smith  noticed  that,  though  Juliette  laughed 
with  the  others,  her  thoughts  were  not  with  them ; 
and,  with  a  mother's  anxiety  to  know  what  had  passed, 
she  advised  the  young  lady  to  retire  to  rest,  and  pres 
ently  followed  to  the  chamber. 

"James  is  a  noble  man!"  cried  the  tired  girl, 
throwing  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Smith's  neck.  "  He 
knows  all  now ;  and  has  promised  to  be  a  friend  and 
brother  still.  Josey  came  home  with  us,  and  I  can 
see  he  will  turn  to  her  for  comfort." 

"God  will  bless  you,  my  dear,"  answered  the  good 


238  JULIETTE. 

woman,  straining  the  young  girl  to  her  heart.  "You 
have  done  just  right." 

She  had  scarcely  reached  the  bottom  of  the  stairs 
before  James  entered  the  kitchen.  He  did  not  per 
ceive  her, 'and,  throwing  himself  listlessly  into  a  chair, 
covered  his  face  with  liis  hands. 

She  softly  approached  him  and  put  her  hand  on  his 
head. 

"O  mother!"  he  cried  in  agony,  "I  have  lost 
her.  My.  heart  seems  crushed,  but  she  is  too  good 
and  too  beautiful  for  me."  And  covering  his  face 
again,  his  stout  form  swayed  to  and  fro  with  the 
fierce  emotions  that  agitated  his  breast. 

A  shout  of  laughter  from  the  parlor  reached  him, 
and,  starting  up,  he  was  about  to  rush  to  his  own  room, 
when  he  suddenly  turned  back  and  said,  hoarsely, 
"Mother,  will  you  pray  for  me?  Oh,  I  did  hope  I 
could  make  her  happy !  But  she  must  never  know 
this.  No  one  but  God  shall  know  what  I  suffer."  He 
wrung  the  hand  she  held  out  to  him,  and  left  the  room. 

As  he  passed  Juliette's  door,  he  heard  her  voice 
softly  uttering  her  evening  prayer.  Unconsciously 
he  stopped  and  listened.  She  was  thanking  her 
heavenly  Father  for  giving  her  such  kind  friends  to 
be  a  support  to  her  in  her  hours  of  trial,  separated  as 
she  was  from  her  own  kindred. 

"Yes,  and  I  will  be  a  friend!"  he  exc^imcd, 
hastening  to  his  own  chamber.  "I  must  and  will 
school  my  heart ;  and,  God  helping  me,  she  shall  never 
suspect  how  miserable  she  has  made  me." 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

"  Her  heart  sunk  in  her, 
And  every  slackened  fibre  dropt  its  hold, 
Like  Nature  letting  down  the  springs  of  life." 

IT  was  nearly  a  month  later  than  the  events  related 
in  the  preceding  chapter  that  the  horse  and  buggy 
of  the  village  doctor  were  seen  driving  up  to  the  farm. 

Within  the  house  Mrs.  Smith  was  anxiously  bend 
ing  over  Juliette's  couch,  the  young  girl  having  at  last 
fallen  into  a  light  slumber. 

"How  is  my  patient  to-day?"  inquired  the  physi 
cian  entering  from  the  side  door  into  the  kitchen, 
where  Maria  and  her  sister  were  at  work. 

"I  don't  know,  exactly,"  answered  Susan,  coming 
forward.  "Mother  took  care  of  her  last  night  and 
said  the  poor  girl  did  not  get  any  slepp.  Do  you 
think  she  will  have  a  fever?" 

"  She  has  a  fever  already ;  a  slow,  nervous  attack, 
not  severe,  nor  immediately  dangerous ;  but  there  is 
nothing  like  it  to  prostrate  the  system."  And  so  say 
ing,  he  went  softly  up  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Smith  came  quickly  from  the  chamber  to  meet 
him  with  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

239 


240  JULIETTE. 

"  She's  just  fallen  off,"  she  remarked  in  a  whisper. 
"The  first  sleep  she's  had  for  twenty-four  hours." 

"How's  her  appetite?"  he  inquired  in  the  same 
tone. 

"  She  has  none  at  all.  I  don't  think  she's  taken  a 
teaspoonfnl  of  nourishment  since  you  were  here  yester 
day  morning." 

"Much  fever?" 

"By  spells.  She  was  hot  and  restless  all  night." 
She  pushed  open  the  door  behind  her  and  entered  on 
tiptoe,  the  doctor  following  closely. 

As  she  lay  there,  the  dark,  thick  lashes  shadowing 
her  white  cheek,  she  looked  so  much  like  one  resting  in 
her  last,  long  slumber,  that  the  physician  started  forward 
and  put  down  his  ear  to  listen  whether  she  breathed. 
Then  he  laid  his  fingers  gently  on  the  frail  wrist  lying 
outside  the  counterpane,  shook  his  head  impressively, 
and  motioned  Mrs.  Smith  from  the  room. 

"Where  are  this  child's  friends?"  he  inquired, 
when  the  door  was  again  shut. 

"  Her  father  is  abroad.  I  do  not  know  whether  she 
has  other  relatives."  She  was  evidently  embarrassed 
both  at  the  question  and  the  searching  look  which  ac 
companied  it. 

"They  ought  to  know  her  situation." 

" Then  you  consider  her  very  ill?  " 

"  Not  so  much  that,  but  the  delicacy  of  her  constitu 
tion  excites  alarm.  Did  you  observe  that  white  ring 
about  the  mouth  and  the  pinched  look  of  the  nostrils  ? 
They  denote  extreme  prostration." 


JULIETTE.  241 

"  She  always  has  that  when  the  fever  is  off.  Her 
cheeks  were  bright-red  all  night." 

He  stood  a  moment  gazing  abstractedly  upon  the 
floor.  "  I  think  I  must  venture  to  try  a  tonic,"  he 
muttered,  half-aloud ;  and,  opening  the  door  of  the 
adjoining  room,  he  went  to  the  table,  and  prepared  a 
number  of  little  powders,  which  he  ordered  to  be 
given  once  in  three  hours. 

"I'll  look  in  again  before  bedtime,  if  possible," 
he  added,  turning  to  go  downstairs.  "  In  the  mean 
time,  get  her  to  take  as  much  arrow-root,  toast- water, 
or  rice-water,  as  you  can." 

The  kind-hearted  woman  returned  softly  to  the 
chamber,  and,  finding  her  patient  still  asleep,  went 
to  a  closet  in  the  entry  for  some  sewing. 

Presently  a  door  opened  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  and 
James  beckoned  her  toward  him. 

"  What  does  the  doctor  say  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  hurried 
voice. 

"  He  thinks  her  very  ill." 

"  Dangerously  so  ?  " 

"  He  said  her  friends  ought  to  be  informed  of  her 
condition." 

A  low,  quick  gasp,  and  without  another  word  he 
entered  his  room  again. 

Oh,    the  agony  of  the  hour  that  followed  !      With 

clasped  hands  and  streaming  eyes,  he   besieged  the 

mercy-seat  in  her  behalf.     ''Gracious  Father,    spare 

her;  take   her  not   away  in   the  midst   of  her  days. 

21 


242  JULIETTE. 

Restore  her  to  life,  strength,  and  happiness ;  and  do 
unto  thy  servant  according  to  thy  will." 

Then,  comforted  by  the  assurance  that  God  was  a 
hearer  and  answerer  of  prayer,  he  stole  unpcrceived 
down  the  back  stairs,  and  returned  to  his  work  again. 

About  the  same  hour  Juliette  awoke.  At  first,  she 
gazed  in  the  face  of  her  devoted  nurse,  as  if  she  did 
not  recognize  her,- — but  almost  instantly  recovered 
herself,  and  smiled.  "I  have  had  a  beautiful  drearn," 
she  said,  softly.  "I  thought  James  went  to  the  office,, 
and  found  a  letter  there  for  me  from  father,  —  and  he 
wants  me  to  come  to  him  at  once." 

"  Perhaps  it  may  come  true,  dear.  We  will  send  to 
the  office  and  see.  But  you  will  need  a  good  deal 
more  strength  before  you  can  start  on  so  long  a  jour 
ney  ;  and  here  is  a  powder  the  doctor  left  for  you." 

Juliette  took-  it,  as  she  did  everything  else,  without 
a  word  of  remonstrance,  and  then  swallowed  a  spoon- 
full  of  arrow-root  after  it.  Her  heart  was  full  of  her 
dream ;  and  she  could  not  refrain  talking  about  it. 
"How  much  better  I  feel ! "  she  said  again  and  again. 
"  I  believe,  if  I  should  hear  from  father,  I  should  be 
well  very  quick. " 

Mrs.  Smith  brushed  back  her  hair  and  kissed  her. 
"  You  mustn't  talk  too  much,  dear,  for  fear  it  will 
bring  on  your  fever.  If  you'll  promise  to  be  a  good 
girl,  and  not  be  ^too  much  disappointed  if  the  dream, 
doesn't  prove  true  this  time,  I'll  slip  down  and  get  Mr. 
Smith  or  James  to  ride  to  the  village.  How  should 
you  like  to  have  Mr.  Allen  call  and  see  you  ?  " 


JULIETTE.  243 

"  Very  much.     He's  a  good  man." 

Mrs.  Smith  knew  how  much  pleasure  it  would  give 
her  son  to  go ;  and  therefore  telling  Susan  to  go  up  to 
Juliette,  but  not  to  let  her  talk,  she  put  on  her  sun- 
bonnet,  and  went  out  to  the  field  where  he  was  at 
work  harvesting  his  vegetables. 

The  young  man  dropped  his  spade  at  once,  and, 
without  waiting  to  change  his  dress,  harnessed  the 
horse  into  the  wagon  and  rode  quickly  away. 

He  drove  first  to  Mr.  Allen's  and  gave  his  mother's 
message,  and  then,  with  a  palpitating  heart,  made  his 
way  across  the  common  to  the  office. 

"  Any  letters  for  us  to-day,  Mr.  Jones  ?  " 

"I'll  see.  No,"  he  added  presently,  "there  are 
none." 

"  Wont  you  look  particularly,  and  see  whether 
there  is  one  for  Miss  Edwards?  She's  expecting  one." 

The  man  fumbled  over  some  papers,  and  then 
answered  "No,"  again;  little  suspecting  how  that  one 
short  syllable  caused  the  young  man's  heart  to  sink 
within  him.  He  dreaded  to  go  home  the  bearer  of 
ill  tidings ;  and,  finally,  concluded  to  call  at  Mr. 
Allen's  again,  and  get  him  to  go  to  the  farm  at  once. 

Mrs.  Smith  found  that  her  young  patient  was  eagerly 
listening  for  the  carriage,  and  feared  she  was  too  con 
fident  of  receiving  a  letter.  She  tried  to  divert  her 
mind  from  the  subject,  and  even  hinted  that  James 
might  be  unsuccessful ;  but  Juliette  only  smiled.  Her 
dream  had  seemed  so  real.  The  "  My  dearly  loved 
daughter "  at  the  commencement,  and  the  "  Ever  your 


244  JULIETTE. 

loving  father"  at  the  close,  with  the  tenderest  little 
postscript  from  Horace,  were  as  clearly  before  her 
mind's  eye,  as  the  face  of  her  faithful,  untiring  nurse 
was  before  her  physical  one. 

Still,  when  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard  approach 
ing,  her  quick,  sharp  "Hark!  isn't  that  James?" 
betrayed  so  much  of  nervous  excitement,  —  the  very 
thing  the  doctor  had  condemned,  — that,  in  order  to 
allay  it  the  sooner,  she  hastened  down  the  stairs. 

James  had  already  jumped  to  the  ground,  and  was 
holding  the  reins  for  Mr.  Allen  to  alight.  One  glance 
at  his  troubled  face  told  her  he  had  not  succeeded. 
Inviting  Mr.  Allen  into  the  parlor,  she  returned  for  a 
minute  to  the  door. 

"  There  was  nothing  for  her,  mother,"  he  said, 
avoiding  her  eye.  "  I'd  have  given  half  I'm  worth  to 
have  brought  her  a  letter. 

"  I  don't  know  how  she'll  take  it,"  murmured  the 
good  woman,  speaking  to  herself.  "  She  seemed  very 
sure  you'd  bring  her  one." 

"And  more  than  that,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  low,  angry 
tone,  and  with  a  flash  of  his  deep  blue  eye,  "  I  don't 
believe  they  ever  mean  to  write  her.  The  man's  a 
rascal,  to  my  thinking." 

"  Hush !  James,  hush !  You  don't  know  what 
you're  saying."  She  was  really  alarmed  to  hear  him 
talk  so  fiercely ;  and,  with  a  glance  of  mingled  reproach 
and  tenderness,  she  hastened  to  relieve  Juliette's 
anxiety,  and  announce  Mr.  Allen's  arrival. 

.When  Mrs.  Smith  first  caught  sight  of  her  patient, 


JULIETTE.  245 

she  was  looking  toward  the  door,  with  a  face  of  such 
eager,  pleased  anticipation,  her  eyes  so  brimful  of 
hope,  her  cheeks  so  brilliant  with  triumph,  that  the 
heart  of  the  woman  sank  within  her. 

"  Give  it  to  rne,  quick,"  she  said,  earnestly  ;  "  I  can 
bear  it.  Oh,  don't  make  me  wait !  please,  dear  Mrs. 
Smith." 

The  sympathizing  nurse,  though  not  given  to  crying, 
could  not  restrain  her  tears.  "  You  must  wait  a  little 
longer,  my  poor  child.  There  was  no  letter  to-day." 

The  bright  color  faded  suddenly,  all  hope  died  out 
of  the  beaming  eye,  and  the  poor  girl,  sinking  back 
into  her  pillows,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
wept  bitter,  bitter  tears  of  disappointment. 

For  a  time,  Mrs.  Smith  did  not  try  to  check  her 
grief;  she  only  laid  her  hand  tenderly  on  the  throbbing 
temples,  and  uttered  soothing  sounds,  as  one  would  to 
a  frightened  child.  "  There,  dear,  don't  now  !  Maybe 
there'll  be  one  to-morrow." 

Juliette  shook  her  head ;  and,  after  weeping  for  some 
time  without  restraint,  while  her  anxious  companion 
was  wondering  what  she  should  do  with  her,  said 
abruptly,  "  Don't  think  me  ungrateful.  If  you  only 
knew  how  sure,  how  very  sure,  I  was.  I  knew  every 
word  of  it  by  heart;  but  now  I  feel  I  am  unforgiven. 
I  shall  never  hear  from  him  again ;  "  and  she  uttered 
such  a  cry  of  distress,  as  the  truth  of  this  seemed  to 
burst  upon  her,  that  Mr.  Smith,  who  was  with  their 
pastor,  came  hastily  up  the  stairs  to  inquire  the  cause. 

21* 


246  JULIETTE. 

"  Memories  on  memories  I  to  my  soul  again 

There  come  such  dreams  of  banished  love  and  bliss, 
That  my  wrung  heart,  though  long  inured  to  pain, 
Sinks  with  the  fulness  of  its  wretchedness." 

Mrs.  Smith  did  .not  speak,  but  only  pointed  to  the 
bed,  where  Juliette,  in  a  violent  fit  of  hysterics,  was 
sobbing,  until  her  frail  form  was  shaken  from  head  to 
foot. 

The  good  farmer,  wholly  unused  to  such  scenes, 
descended  more  hastily  than  he  came  up,  and  begged 
the  clergyman  to  go  to  the  relief  of  the  poor  girl. 

Mr.  Allen,  fortunately,  was  more  conversant  with 
sickness  both  of  the  body  and  mind.  He  asked  Mrs. 
Smith  for  her  bottle  of  ammonia,  and  administered  a 
few 'drops  with  his  own  hands.  Then,  addressing  the 
sick  girl  in  a  firm,  but  mild  tone,  he  said,  "  You  must 
try  to  control  yourself;  it  will  kill  you  to  give  way  to 
your  feelings,  and  God  has  more  work  for  you  before 
he  calls  you  home." 

Perhaps  it  was  his  words  of  authority ;  perhaps 
because  her  grief  had  spent  itself,  and  exhausted 
nature  could  weep  no  more ;  but  her  sobs  came  at 
longer  intervals,  and  at  last  ceased  altogether. 

She  was,  however,  in  such  a  state  of  utter  exhaus 
tion,  without  the  least  particle  of  color  in  her  face  and 
lips,  that  he  did  not  deem  it  expedient  to  address  her 
again.  He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and,  caressing  it  as 
he  would  one  of  his  own  children,  he  knelt  by  her 
side,  and  in  a  few  well-chosen  words,  commended  the 
poor,  stricken  lamb  to  the  care  of  the  good  Shepherd, 
then  passed  silently  from  the  room. 


JULIETTE.  247 

James  was  waiting  below  to  carry  him  home.  His 
heart  was  too  much  oppressed  for  conversation,  and 
they  rode  more  than  half  the  distance  to  the  village  in 
silence,  when  Mr.  Allen  said,  abruptly,  as  if  it  were 
but  the  continuation  of  his  thoughts,  "  She  may  never 
hear  from  her  earthly  father ;  but  I  think  her  heavenly 
Father  will  soon  summon  her  home.  Thank  God,  she 
seems  prepared." 

He  had  no  suspicion  what  a  dagger  he  was  driving 
into  the  heart  of  his  mute  companion,  who  turned  very 
pale,  while  a  groan  of  agony  forced  itself  from  his  lips. 

But  I  must  not  delay  on  this  part  of  my  story.  Juli 
ette,  after  lying  in  about  the  same  state  for  a  fortnight, 
began  slowly  to  convalesce.  Nothing  could  exceed  the 
devotion  of  good  Mrs.  Smith  and  her  daughters  during 
this  period.  And,  as  she  became  able  to  sit  up  for  a  part 
of  the  day,  the  farmer  and  his  son  often  dropped  in  to 
cheer  and  amuse  her.  With  her  quick,  sensitive  nature 
the  invalid  soon  perceived  that  the  latter  grew  paler 
and  paler  at  every  interview.  She  questioned  Mrs. 
Smith  upon  the  subject ;  but  her  inquiries  were  either 
evaded  or  wholly  unanswered.  What  could  it  be? 
To  her  he  seemed  as  kind  as  ever,  but  somewhat  con 
strained. 

It  was  not  till  a  week  later  that  her  gradually  formed 
suspicions  were  increased  to  a  certainty,  thus  bringing 
clearly  before  her  the  necessity  of  a  change  in  her  resi 
dence. 

In  consequence  of  her  sickness,  the  fall  work  in  the 


248  JULIETTE. 

farm-house  was  greatly  retarded ;  the  girls  had  post 
poned  returning  to  school ,  and  now  were  every  moment 
engaged  with  their  mother  in  making  pickles,  pre 
serves,  drying  apples,  peaches,  and  plums,  for  winter 
use.  The  young  girl  insisted  that  now  she  was  fully 
able  to  take  care  of  herself. 

Since  her  convalescence,  it  had  been  her  frequent 
habit  to  lie  down  in  the  bedroom  adjoining  the  parlor, 
where  James  had  been  sick,  and  one  day  she  was 
awakened  from  a  short  nap  by  the  sound  of  Mrs. 
Smith's  voice  in  the  parlor.  She  seemed  urging  some 
point  with  great  feeling.  "I  would  go,  James. 
Change  of  scene  will  do  more  than  anything  else  to 
wean  you  from  her.  While  you  see  her  every  day, — 
see  her  feeble  and  dependent, —  your  sympathies  are 
constantly  called  forth." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  ask,  mother,"  he  replied, 
his  voice  so  thick  she  could  scarcely  recognize  it.  "  I 
can't  go  away  and  deprive  myself  of  the  only  comfort 
that  is  left  me.  I  haven't  strength  nor  courage  to  do 
it.  No  ;  I'll  take  the  school  here  for  the  winter.  I  can 
help  father  morning  and  night,  to  pay  my  board,  and 
then  all  my  earnings  will  go  to  pay  you  and  the  doc 
tor  for  her  sickness." 

Juliette  gave  a  quick  gasp  and  clenched  her  hands. 

M  But  I  have  told  you  before,"  remonstrated  the  kind 
woman,  "that  she  is  entirely  welcome  to  all  I've  done, 
and  the  girls  say  so,  too.  The  doctor's  bill,  I  suppose, 
will  be  considerable,  but  he  wont  be  in  a  hurry  for  it. 
I  wish  you  could  be  persuaded  to  take  the  school  that 


JULIETTE.  24t> 

has  been  offered  you  in  T .  Your  father  wishes 

it,  too." 

Maria's  voice  at  the  door  ended  the  conversation,  and 
Juliette,  arising  from  her  couch,  stole  unobserved  to 
her  chamber.  There  was  a  new  resolve  in  her  bright 
eye  as  she  hurriedly  pulled  from  the  bottom  of  her  trunk 
a  well-filled  purse,  and  poured  part  of  the  contents  upon 
the  bed. 

"  She  said  it  would  be  considerable.  I  wonder  how 
much  that  is.  Here  are  two  hundred  dollars  in  gold, 
my  father's  last  allowance.  How  little  time  that  would 
have  defrayed  my  expenses  in  New  York  !  Oh,  what 
a  noble  heart  James  has  !  I  shall  never  see  Horace 
again.  Couldn't  I  teach  myself  to  love  him  as  he 
wishes  ?  " 

She  stood  still  and  caught  her  breath,  as  a  rush  of 
precious  memories  swept  over  her.  "No,  it  would  be 
sin.  I  couldn't  do  it ;  but,  James,  as  long  as  I  live  I 
never  shall  cease  to  be  grateful  to  you." 

Gathering  up  five  eagles,  she  wrapped  them  in  a 
paper,  and,  enclosing  them  in  an  envelope,  directed 

them  to  Dr. ,  hoping  to  be  able  to  give  them  to 

him  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

Then  she  locked  the  door,  and  sitting  on  her  trunk 
with  her  eyes  fixed  abstractedly  on  the  floor,  she  took 
counsel  of  her  own  heart.  Many,  many  times  since  the 
visit  of  Miss  Darley,  especially  since  she  had  renounced 
all  hope  of  being  reconciled  to  her  father,  she  had 
turned  her  thoughts  toward  the  Lowell  factories  as  a 
feasible  means  of  support.  The  graphic  account  given 


250  JULIETTE. 

by  that  young  lady  of  the  pleasantness  and  healthiness 
of  the  employment,  the  taste  and  order  which  prevailed, 
and  especially  the  measures  taken  for  the  improvement 
of  the  operatives,  had  made  a  strong  impression  upon 
her  mind.  Now  that  she  was  firmly  resolved  to  leave 
Stamford,  and  to  leave  it  at  the  first  moment  her  health 
would  permit,  this  seemed  to  her  a  direct  intimation 
of  Providence  as  to  her  path  of  duty. 

She  knew  her  friends  would  object,  and  oppose  every 
obstacle  in  her  way ;  but  she  was  sure  that,  after  she 
had  gone,  they  would  consider  her  conduct  both  wise 
and  honorable.  One  hundred  dollars,  which  was  the 
sum  she  determined  to  leave  for  Mrs.  Smith,  was,  she 
knew,  a  small  compensation  for  all  her  motherly  kind 
ness  and  care ;  but  even  this  she  was  sure  they  would 
refuse  if  possible. 

With  a  sudden,  pleasant  thought,  she  unlocked  her 
jewel-case,  and,  taking  from  it  one  article  after  another, 
pronounced  her  judgment  upon  them  as  suitable  pres 
ents  for  the  girls.  They  were  each  of  them  too  costly 
and  rich  to  correspond  with  their  most  elaborate  toilet ; 
but  at  last  she  selected  a  valuable  bandeau  of  pearls, 
and,  enclosing  it  carefully  in  a  separate  box,  resolved  to 
find  a  way  to  exchange  it  for  some  tasteful,  but  less 
costly  articles  for  each  of  them.  To  James  she  had 
long  wished  to  present  a  Bible,  and  laid  aside  another 
eagle  to  be  devoted  to  that  purpose. 

Having  made  these  concise  arrangements,  her  mind 
was  intensely  relieved.  She  replaced  the  articles  in 


JULIETTE.  251 

her  trunk,  dropped  the  envelope  for  the  doctor  into 
her  pocket,  and  went  downstairs. 

The  resolutions  she  had  just  formed  effected  a  change 
in  her  whole  appearance.  She  felt  stronger  and  more 
self-reliant.  Even  her  carriage  was  more  erect,  as,  with 
a  flushed  cheek  and  kindling  eye,  she  approached  the 
table  where  Mrs.  Smith  was  ironing,  and  playfully 
asked  for  some  work. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  mournful  eloquence 
In  thy  dumb  grief,  which  shames  all  clam'rous  sorrow." 

THE  morning  was  pleasantly  and  usefully  employed. 
First  she  pulled  out  some  lace  her  good  friend  had 
been  starching  for  caps,  and  wound  it  smoothly  around 
a  bottle ;  then  she  assisted  Susan  in  picking  over  some 
dried  beans  for  the  next  day's  baking,  the  young  girl 
whispering  meantime,  "  See  how  glum  Maria  looks  ; 
she  and  Dudley  have  had  a  spat.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am 
that  I  am  not  engaged  1  " 

It  was  only  when  the  men  (as  Mr.  Smith  and  his 
son  were  called)  came  in  to  dinner,  and  she  stole  a 
glance  at  James's  pale,  grave  face,  with  the  recollection 
of  what  she  had  overheard,  that  her  lip  quivered,  and  her 
eyes  grew  moist. 

The  conversation  at  table  turned  upon  the  school, 
and  she  learned,  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure,  that  the  young 
man  had  decided  to  carry  his  acceptance  to  the  com 
mittee  that  very  evening.  She  had  been  so  fearful 
that  he  would  yield  to  the  solicitations  of  his  mother, 
and  leave  home !  Then  her  self-sacrifice  in  quitting 
these  generous  friends,  and  throwing  herself  once  more 
upon  the  cold  world  would  fall  short  of  its  intentions. 

252 


JULJETTE.  253 

Toward  night,  the  doctor,  in  passing,  drove  up  to  the 
door,  and  Juliette  hurried  to  meet  him.  Detaining 
him  a  moment  in  the  small  entry,  she  said,  "Here  is 
some  money,  doctor,  to  pay  your  bill.  There  are  fifty 
dollars ;  and  if  that  is  not  enough,  I'll  run  and  get 
more,  only  don't  say  anything  about  it." 

"  Whew  !  whew  !  "  he  cried  out  with  a  laugh,  "quite 
a  windfall.  But,  child,  half  of  fifty  dollars  is  more 
than  enough  to  pay  for  rny  poor  services.  I  should 
never  have  charged  more  than  ten." 

"I  have  never  paid  a  bill  before,"  she  remarked  with 
a  deep  blush.  "I  had  no  idea  how  much  it  would  be. 
You  have  been  very  kind  and  attentive.  No,  sir,  no, 
indeed  ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  he  put  back  four  of  the  eagles 
into  her  hand  ;  "  you  must  certainly  take  half  of  them  ; 
take  three  ;  well  then,  take  two,"  as  he  firmly  refused. 
"  I  wont  consent  to  your  taking  less  than  two." 

"  Well,  I'll  take  twenty  dollars,  and  thank  you  into 
the  bargain.  Now,  let  me  give  you  a  receipt ;  "  and, 
smoothing  out  the  paper  in  which  the  money  had  been 
folded,  wrote,  "Received  from  Miss  Juliette  Edwards, 
two  gold  eagles  in  full  of  all  demands  for  medical 
attendance." 

This  he  gave  to  her  with  a  laughing  remark,  "That's 
the  way  to  do  business,  child." 

"  I  wonder  how  old  everybody  considers  me  ?  "  que 
ried  the  young  girl,  thrusting  the  remaining  gold 
pieces  into  her  pocket.  "  You,  and  Mr.  Allen,  and  ever 
so  many  call  me  '  child.' " 

"About  fourteen,  I  imagine." 
22 


254  JULIETTE. 

"  I'm  almost  eighteen,  sir,"  she  answered,  drawing 
up  her  form.  "  I  suppose  my  hair  being  short,  makes 
me  look  younger,  though." 

During  the  evening,  though  she  occasionally  joined 
in  the  conversation,  her  mind  was  busy  revolving  her 
plan  for  leaving  Stamford.  At  one  time,  she  thought 
of  making  a  confidant  of  Dudley,  who  was  now  in  the 
parlor  trying  to  reconcile  his  ladylove  ;  but  finally,  she 
concluded  to  confide  the  whole  to  Susan,  and  ask  her 
advice  and  assistance.  To  Dudley,  however,  she  was 
obliged  to  commit  the  bandeau  of  pearls,  with  full 
directions  in  writing  for  its  exchange. 

She  had  scarcely  retired  to  her  room  when  Susan 
ran  up,  out  of  breath,  exclaiming,  "TIere,  miss,  what 
have  you  been  doing  ?  How  can  you  account  for  this  ?  " 
and  she  held  up  the  crumpled  receipt  of  the  doctor, 
which,  in  her  haste,  Juliette  had  dropped  on  the 
floor. 

"You  can't  imagine,"  cried  Susan,  "how  they  are 
abusing  you  downstairs  ;  mother,  and  James,  and  nil 
of  them,  but  father.  He  didn't  have  a  chance  to  speak 
a  word." 

Here  the  wicked  girl,  being  wholly  exhausted,  sank 
into  a  chair,  laughing  heartily. 

"Never  mind,"  answered  Juliette,  taking  the  paper 
in  some  confusion  ;  "  I  know  they  wont  say  more  than 
I  deserve  ;  and  I  want  to  talk  with  you  about  some 
thing."  She  then,  with  a  heightened  color,  and  not 
without  tears,  made  a  full  expose  of  her  situation,  and 
the  determination  to  which  she  had  arrived. 


JULIETTE.  255 

Susan,  impulsive,  warm-hearted  girl  that  she  was, 
scolded,  aud  exclaimed,  and  threw  her  arms  tightly 
around  hef  friend,  and  declared  she  should  never 
leave  Stamford.  She  go  into  a  factory?  No,  indeed  ! 
Juliette  might  stay  quietly  at  the  farm,  and  she  herself 
would  go,  if  necessary ;  but  finally,  as  Juliette  knew 
would  be  the  case,  she  was  prevailed  upon  to  be  her 
confidential  adviser  and  frieud  in  this  sad  emergency. 

"  James  will  kill  me  ;  and  so  they  all  will,"  she  cried 
out ;  "  but,  if  you  say  I  must  do  it,  why,  I  will." 

Entering  her  friend's  room  two  days  later,  "I'll  tell 
you  what, "she  cried,  "I've  got  a  splendid  plan.  We, 
that  is,  you  and  I,  will  go  to  Aunt  Sukey's,  —  that's 
father's  sister,  you  know,  that  I  was  named  for,  —  to 
make  a  visit.  I'll  make  an  excuse  to  take  your  trunk, 
and  then,  — why,  if  you  will  carry  out  your  mad  idea 
of  going  into  a  factory,  you  can  go  from  her  house. 
It  is  five  miles  nearer  New  Haven  than  this  is.  Now 
give  me  credit  for  being  more  wise  than  you  thought.'' 

"  You  are,  indeed,  my  good  angel,  as  you  have  al 
ways  been  since  I  first  met  you  in  the  cars,"  exclaimed 
Juliette,  warmly.  "Oh,  you  did  not  imagine  what  a 
lonely,  desolate,  chilled  heart  was  behind  you  the  day 
I  saw  you  there  !  You  can  scarcely  imagine,  even, 
how  eagerly  I  watched  your  bright,  expectant  face, 
and  drank  in  the  rich  tones  of  your  merry  voice.  I 
knew  at  once  you  were  a  saucy  girl,  Susy,"  —  giving 
her  an  eager  kiss  ;  "  but  I  knew  as  well,  that  you  were 
a  warm-hearted  one.  I  shall  never  forget  you  when 
I'm  away." 


256  JULIETTE. 

The  tears  came  in  her  eyes,  and  Susan,  seeing  them, 
began  to  cry  aloud,  and  declared  that  it  was  no  use  try 
ing  any  longer  to  convince  her  ;  she  knew  it  was  wicked 
for  her  to  help  Juliette  off.  If  anything  ever  happened 
to  her,  she  should  feel  guilty  to  the  last  hour  of  her 
life.  "So  now,"  she  ended,  "I  give  you  fair  warning,' 
and,  before  her  companion,  alarmed  by  this  fresh  out 
burst,  could  speak  to  prevent  her,  she  rushed  down  the 
stairs,  where  the  whole  family  were  assembled,  and 
bursting  open  the  door,  exclaimed,  in  a  loud,  excited 
tone,  "Mother,  Juliette 's  going  off  to  Lowell,  to  work 
in  the  factory  !  " 

"  Susan  Smith,  are  you  crazy  ?  "  cried  her  father. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Susan?"  asked  her  mother, 
starting  to  her  feet. 

"It's  one  of  her  foolish  jokes,"  muttered  Maria ; 
"  you  forget  it's  the  first  of  October  instead  of  the  first 
'of  April." 

James  said  not  a  word,  but  he  grew  very  pale ;  and 
there  was  an  expression  of  suffering  on  his  features, 
which  his  mother  too  well  understood. 

"  I  know  I've  broken  my  word,"  continued  the 
young  girl,  beginning  to  cry  again;  "but  I've  known 
it  two  days,  and  I  should  burst  if  I  had  to  keep  it  any 
longer.  She's  going  away  from  here,  because — be- 

CctUSG — 

"Never  mind  the  reasons  now,  Susan,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Smith,  with  an  anxious,  sympathizing  glance  at 
her  son,  "I'll  talk  to  her:  she'll  take  my  advice,  I 
know  she  will." 


JULIETTE.  257 

A  loud  knock  at  the  door  startled  the  company ;  and 
Susan,  holding  4ier  apron  to  her  face,  darted  out  into 
the  shed. 

It  was  a  gentleman  and  his  wife  to  see  the  young  la 
dies  ;  and  Maria  waited  upon  them  to  the  parlor,  and 
then  called  James. 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her ;  but  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  shut,  began, — 

"Mother,"  —  he  spoke  in  a  voice  which  he  vainly  en 
deavored  to  render  firm,  —  "  to-morrow,  I  shall  give  up 

my  school  in  the  West  District,  and  go  to  T .  It 

is  not  too  late.  It  is  on  my  account,  I  am  sure,  that 
Juliette  is  going  away." 

"  But  what  is  to  hinder  your  staying  at  home  ?  and 
her  staying,  too  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Smith,  not  being  en 
lightened  on  all  points. 

"I'll  ask  her,"  said  the  good  wife,  and  immediately 
sought  the  young  girl  in  her  own  room. 

After  an  hour  she  came  back,  with  evident  marks  of 
deep  emotion. 

"  She  is  decided  to  leave  Stamford,"  she  said,  in  an 
swer  to  an  entreating  glance  from  her  son  ;  "  whether 
you  go  or  stay,  it  will  make  no  difference.  She  has 
had  it  in  mind  ever  since  Miss  Darley  passed  the  after 
noon  here,  in  case  she  did  not  hear  from  her  father ; 
and  now  the  poor  thing  has  given  up  all  hope  of 
that." 

James's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  forth. 

"  I  said  all  I  could  to  persuade  her  to  give  up  her 
wild  plan,"  continued  Mrs.  Smith  ;  "  but  she  thinks  it 

22* 


258  JULIETTE. 

her  duty,  and  that  she  may  as  well  begin  her  struggle 
with  the  world  now  as  any  time." 

"If  she  was  strong  and  tough,  like  our  gals,"  urged 
the  farmer,  bringing  down  his  fist  upon  the  table,  "  I 
wouldn't  say  a  word  against  it ;  but  to  have  that  little, 
delicate  creature,  that  has  no  more  courage  than  a 
kitten,  set  out  alone,  and  try  to  battle  her  way  through 
them  city  factories,  or  anywhere  else,  it's  what  I  can't 
give  my  consent  to." 

James  caught  his  father's  hard  hand,  and  gave  it  a 
very  demonstrative  squeeze. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  her  friends  felt  for  her,  Ju 
liette  knew  she  ought  to  go,  and  go  she  did ;  though 
not  without  many  tears,  and  a  sickening  fear  and  trem 
bling  at  what  might  be  before  her.  Whenever  she 
stopped  to  question  herself  whether  this  sacrifice  was 
required  of  her,  the  conversation  she  had  involuntarily 
been  a  listener  to,  between  Mrs.  Smith  and  James, 
rushed  to  her  mind.  "No,"  she  said  to  herself,  "my 
money  will  soon  be  gone  ;  and  I  will  never  be  a  burden 
to  friends  who  have  already  done  so  much  for  me."  She 
promised,  however,  to  write  them  often ;  and,  if  pos 
sible,  to  return  for  a  visit  during  the  next  summer. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  Juliette,  at  last,  that  she  was 
not  obliged  to  leave  Stamford  in  a  clandestine  manner. 
It  was  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  impart  her  intentions 
to  her  good  pastor;  and,  after  playfully  reasoning 
down  his  remonstrances,  to  receive  his  benediction  and 
a  letter  commendatory  to  any  church  she  might  wish 
to  attend.  But  after  all,  it  was  a  hard,  bitter  parting ; 


JULIETTE.  .  259 

and,  as  she  stood  awaiting  the  carriage  that  was  to 
convey  her  to  the  depot,  and  suddenly  began  to  realize 
the  trials  before  her,  and  all  that  these  friends  had 
been  to  her  in  her  hours  of  sorrow,  it  would  have  been 
an  easy  matter  to  have  persuaded  her,  at  least,  to  delay 
this  rude  encounter  with  the  world. 

In  an  envelope  left  upon  her  table  was  enclosed  the 
ten  eagles  directed  to  Mrs.  Smith,  with  a  letter,  ex 
pressing  the  gratitude  she  could  not  trust  herself  to 
utter.  The  presents  for  the  girls,  to  her  disappoint 
ment,  had  not  come  to  hand ;  and  she  therefore  could 
only  hint  that  they  might  expect  a  trifling  remem 
brance  from  her  to  be  worn  at  Maria's  wedding. 

The  Bible,  a  handsome  English  edition,  bound  in 
maroon  velvet,  and  fastened  with  gold  clasps,  she  de 
termined,  with  her  own  hands,  to  present  to  James  ; 
and  did  so,  calling  him  into  the  parlor  at  the  moment 
of  their  starting. 

"When  you  read  this,  dear  friend,"  she  said,  tear 
fully,  "remember  God  hears  the  prayers  of  the  pure 
in  heart ;  and  sometimes  offer  up  a  petition  for  your 
absent  sister." 

James  took  the  book,  pressed  his  quivering  lips  upon 
the  hand  that  offered  it,  bowed  his  assent,  and  has 
tened  to  the  carriage.  On  their  way  to  the  village  he 
scarcely  spoke.  He  knew  his  only  safety  lay  in  si 
lence.  She  had  enough  to  do  to  bear  her  own  trials, 
and  he  would  not  intrude  his  grief  upon  her.  He  lifted 
her  from  the  carriage  and  showed  her  into  the  ladies' 
room,  procured  her  a  ticket  for  Boston,  gave  her  the 


260  JULIETTE. 

check  for  her  trunk,  then,  taking  her  hand  in  both  of 
his,  he  thrust  a  small  paper  parcel  within  it,  and  with 
the  whispered  words,  "May  God  bless  you  and  keep 
you  !"  he  turned  away.  But  looking  from  the  cars  as 
they  were  dashing  out  beyond  the  depot,  Juliette  saw 
his  pale,  wistful  face  still  watching  her.  With  a  burst 
of  grief,  she  suddenly  covered  her  face,  and  that  was 
the  last  she  saw  of  Stamford. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  When,  overwhelmed  with  grief, 
My  heart  within  me  dies, 
Helpless,  and  far  from  all  relief, 
To  heaven  I  lift  mine  eyes." 

THOUGH  the  early  morning  had  been  fair,  as  the 
day  advanced,  heavy  clouds  overspread  the  sky, 
and  by  eight  o'clock,  the  time  our  weary,  heart-sick 
heroine  reached  her  destination,  the  rain  was  falling  fast. 

For  the  Jast  hour  the  poor  girl  had  been  trembling 
at  the  thought  of  her  utterly  forlorn  condition.  A 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  what  should  she  do  when 
the  cars  stopped  ?  She  supposed  there  were  boarding- 
houses  for  the  factory-girls ;  but  who  would  direct  her 
to  a  suitable  one? 

Her  lips  grew  pale,  and  her  hands  numb,  as  with 
throbbing  nerves  she  ejaculated,  "  Oh  !  what  will  be 
come  of  me  ?  What  if  I  should  be  earned  to  some 
dreadful  house?  I  have  heard  of  such  things.  " 

Suddenly  a  still,  small  voice  seemed  whispering  to 
her  soul,  "Trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  thy  heart,  and 
lean  not  unto  thine  own  understanding.  In  all  thy 
ways  acknowledge  him  and  he  shall  direct  thy 
paths." 

261 


262  JULIETTE. 

A  gush  of  grateful  tears  relieved  her  over-excited 
feelings,  and  presently,  with  a  wild  whoop  and  a  tear 
ing  shriek,  the  cars,  ringing  their  bells,  dashed  through 
the  streets  and  drew  up  at  the  long  depot. 

The  passengers  poured  out  into  the  darkness,  and 
Juliette  followed  them.  By  the  light  from  the  street- 
lamps  she  saw  rows  of  carriages  ;  and  she  had  scarcely 
touched  the  platform  before  half  a  dozen  voices 
screamed  out,  "Have  a  hack,  miss?  Have  a  carriage, 
lady?" 

Perfectly  bewildered  at  finding  herself  in  such  a 
new,  unprotected  position,  Juliette  stood  still  until  a 
gentleman,  who  had  sat  near  her  in  the  cars,  stepped 
toward  her,  and  said  in  a  kind,  manly  voice,  "Can  I 
help  you  to  a  carriage,  miss?  I  see  you  are  alone. 
Have  you  baggage  ?  " 

"Oh  !  I  thank  you,  sir.  I  am  a  stranger  here.  I  have 
but  one  trunk,  and  here  is  my  check." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go  ?  " 

"To  a  good  boarding-house.  I  have  come  to  work 
in  the  factory." 

He  noticed  the  unsteadiness  of  her  voice.  "  Ah  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  little  start  of  surprise  ;  but  added, 
instantly,  "  I  am  glad  that  I  can  direct  you  to  a  good 
place.  Here,  Morris  (to  a  hack-driver),  take  this 
check,  and  find  the  trunk  answering  to  it,  and  take  us 
to  LawTrence  Corporation.  Walk  into  the  ladies' 
room,  miss,  if  you  please,  out  of  the  damp  air.  Mor 
ris  will  call  us  when  he  is  ready." 

He  glanced  with  his  keen  eyes  into -her  face  as  they 


JULIETTE.  263 

went  into  the  lighted  room,  and  then,  appearing  satis 
fied,  he  said,  cordially,  "  I  am  an  agent  for  the  Law 
rence  Mills.  As  you  are  a  stranger,  perhaps  I  had 
better  take  you  home  to  my  wife,  and  let  you  become 
acquainted  with  the  Lowell  boarding-houses  under 
more  favorable  auspices.  How  would  that  do?" 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Juliette;  "b  t  I  have 
travelled  all  day,  and  am  very  tired.  Perhaps  I  had 
better  go  at  once  to  the  boarding-place,  if  you  will  be 
so  kind  as  to  recommend  one." 

"  All  ready,  sir,"  called  Morris,  at  the  door. 

After  a  ride  of  about  five  minutes,  they  drew  up 
before  a  house  very  unlike  her  home  in  New  York. 
The  gentleman,  meanwhile,  had  carried  on  a  brisk 
conversation  with  his  young  companion,  who  interested 
him  more  and  more..  When  the  carriage  stopped,  bid 
ding  the  driver  wait,  he  ran  hastily  up  the  steps,  rung 
the  bell  with  a  quick  jerk,  and  Juliette  could  see  him 
in  earnest  conversation  with  a  woman  in  the  entry. 

"How  wonderfully  my  heavenly  Father  works  for 
me  !  "  was  the  language  of  her  heart.  "  How  safe  to 
trust  him ! " 

"Let  down  the  steps, Morris," called  out  the  gentle 
man,  turning  again  to  the  woman. 

Juliette  alighted,  and  quickly  ran  into  the  house, 
as  the  rain  was  still  falling  heavily,  gave  her  name  to 
the  landlady,  thanked  the  agent  warmly  for  his  kind 
attention,  received  his  directions  where  to  apply  for 
work,  and  saying  to  the  woman  that  she  wished  for 
nothing  but  to  be  shown  to  her  bed,  was  lighted  up- 


264  JULIETTE. 

stairs  to  an  apartment  about  twelve  feet  by  fifteen,  in 
which  there  were  two  wide  beds,  and  one  narrow 
cot. 

The  latter  place  was  assigned  to  her,  and  then  the 
woman,  a  bustling  person  with  a  sharp  face  and  thin 
lips,  bade  her  good-night,  and  returned  to  her  busy 
cares  below. 

Shutting  the  door,  which  was  guiltless  of  a  lock,  the 
wearied  girl  cast  a  glance  of  dismay  around  this 
crowded,  meagre  apartment,  her  thoughts  flying  back 
to  her  spacious,  richly-furnished  rooms  in  New  York ; 
and  then,  with  a  sinking  heart,  to  the  neat  little  cham 
ber  she  had  more  recently  occupied  at  the  farm.  It 
had  never  once  occurred  to  her  that  it  would  be  neces 
sary  to  share  her  room  with  another ;  but  here  were 
five,  four  of  them  strangers  to  her,  to  occupy  this. 

To  say  she  was  homesick  and  heart-sick  would  but 
feebly  express  the  utter  desolation  of  her  spirits. 
Pushing  a  chair  against  the  door,  she  threw  herself  on 
her  knees.  "OGod!"  she  cried,  "save  me!  save 
me  from  myself !  Help  me  to  be  resigned  to  my  lot. 
Teach  my  wayward,  complaining  heart  to  say, '  Thy  will 
be  done.'" 

The  rattling  of  the  door-latch  made  the  blood  rush 
to  her  very  temples. 

"  Yes  ;  that's  the  room  ! "  shouted  the  landlady  from 
below ;  "  carry  it  right  in." 

It  was  a  man  with  her  trunk ;  but  Juliette  glanced 
around  in  vain  for  an  empty  space  to  put  it.  He,  how- 


JULIETTE.  -265 

ever,  soon  relieved  her ;  for,  throwing  up  the  valance 
of  the  bed,  he  thrust  it  quickly  out  of  sight. 

Taking  a  night-dress  from  her  travelling-bag,  she 
hastily  disrobed,  putting  her  clothes  together  in  the 
most  compact  form,  and  crept  into  bed,  trembling  with 
nervous  fear  lest  her  room-mates  should  enter  before 
she  were  ready. 

Eesolutely  turning  her  thoughts  from  her  present 
most  unpleasant  situation  when  she  found  her  tears 
beginning  to  flow,  she  repeated  hymn  after  hymn  that 
she  had  learned  in  childhood,  and  presently,  fatigued 
with  her  ride,  she  sank  into  a  heavy  sleep.  In  her 
dreams  she  was  a  merry  child  again  ;  and  with  Horace, 
firmly  holding  her  hand,  seemed  to  be  marching 
through  a  vast  open  space,  the  end  of  which  was  be 
yond  their  vision.  They  went  on,  on,  on,  until  she 
was  oh,  so  weary !  But  whenever  her  companion, 
yielding  to  her  pleadings,  began  to  slacken  their  pace, 
a  bright,  shining  form  appeared  before  them.  Point 
ing  onward,  ever  onward,  his  presence  at  once  inspired 
new  courage  and  vigor,  until  at  last  they  arrived  at  a 
mansion  such  as  their  most  lofty  imagination  had  never 
reached. 

"  Sarah  ! "  cried  a  sharp  voice  close  at  her  ear,  "  do 
put  out  your  lamp.  It  smokes,  and  I  can't  get  to 
sleep." 

Juliette  started  up  in  bed,  exclaiming  in  terror, 
"  Where  am  I?" 

"  You're  in  Lawrence  Corporation,  number  five,"  an- 

23 


266  JULIETTE. 

swered  another  voice  from  a  bed  at  her  side ;  which 
reply  elicited  a  coarse  laugh  from  the  other  girls. 

Sarah,  as  she  was  called,  suddenly  extinguished  the 
lamp,  the  odor  of  which  proved  almost  insufferable. 

"I  can't  endure  this,"  said  our  poor  heroine  to  her 
self,  after  waiting  till  she  hoped  her  companions  were 
asleep.  "  I  must  open  a  crack  in  the  window." 

This  was  closed,  however,  with  a  spring,  and  she 
could  not  succeed  in  raising  it  an  inch.  Then  she 
crept  softly  to  the  door,  and,  having  unlatched  it,  went 
quietly  to  bed  again. 

But  slumber  this  time  was  out  of  the  question.  In 
vain  she  closed  her  burning  eyes  and  courted  the  ad 
vances  of  the  fickle  god.  The  loud,  heavy  breath 
ing  of  the  four  sleepers  combined  to  form  a  sound  suf 
ficient  to  frighten  him  away.  She  pressed  her  fingers 
in  her  ears ;  she  pulled  the  bedclothes  around  her 
head  until  she  was  almost  suffocated.  But  all  to  no 
purpose.  The  dawning  day  found  her  weak,  dispirited, 
and  nervous  ;  in  a  poor  frame  to  encounter  new  trials. 

Arising  early,  before  her  companions  were  awake, 
she  went  downstairs  to  find  the  landlady,  fully  re 
solved  upon  having  a  room  by  herself.  But  this  the 
woman  said  was  impossible ;  every  place  where  a  bed 
could  stand  was  packed  full  already.  She  ought  to  be 
thankful  to  have  a  whole  cot  to  herself. 

For  several  days  it  rained  incessantly ;  and  the 
homesick  girl,  regarding  the  advice  of  a  fellow-boarder, 
did  not  venture  from  the  house  except  to  provide  her 
self  with  a  dress  more  suitable  for  her  new  emp*loy- 


JULIETTE.  267 

ment,  a  pair  of  thick  boots,  and  a  bonnet  that  would 
not  be  injured  by  the  rain.  These  were  absolutely 
essential  to  the  wardrobe  of  a  factory  girl. 

During  this  period,  the  delicate  beauty  of  the  new 
comer,  her  evident  superiority  in  education  and  re 
finement,  subjected  her  to  man}'-  low  taunts  and  jeers 
of  ridicule.  But  this  was  nothing  compared  to  the 
scoffing  laugh  of  her  room-mates  when  they  found  she 
was  a  praying  Christian.  Her  assuming  the  attitude 
of  devotion  was  a  signal  for  the  commencement  of  loud- 
whispered  jokes  upon  subjects  too  low  to  be  given  to 
the  reader,  and  at  last  she  was  obliged  to  postpone  her 
supplications  until  they  were  asleep. 

"  O  Horace  !  O  father  !  "  she  would  often  cry  out 
in  the  anguish  of  her  heart,  "  why  do  you  leave  me 
thus  exposed  to  insult  and  abuse?  " 

To  one  of  a  keenly  sensitive  nature  like  hers,  accus 
tomed  to  the  most  refined  society,  the  daily  and  hourly 
intercourse  with  such  an  incongruous  set  was  perfect 
torture.  If  she  bravely  endeavored  to  meet  "their 
taunts  unmoved,  and  to  give  exercise  to  the  .stock  of 
patience  and  resignation  she  had  been  prayerfully  striv 
ing  to  gain,  they  met  her  meek  endurance  with  ridicule. 
If,  suddenly  overcome  by  their  unkind,  cutting  suspi 
cious,  she  gave  way  to  a  passion  of  tears,  they  made  a 
mock  of  her  grief. 

She  yearned  for  one  word  of  sympathy,  one  look  of 
affectionate  interest ;  but,  alas  !  as  she  glanced  up  and 
down  the  long  table,  from  the  busy  operatives  to  their 
more  busy  landlady,  she  realized  more  than  ever  that 


268  JULIETTE. 

she  was  alone  in  a  strange  land.  Often  she  retired 
from  her  meals  having  merely  gone  through  the  form 
of  eating,  to  throw  herself  upon  her  bed  and  cry, 
"  Would  God  it  were  evening  ! "  Then  at  night,  when 
weak  and  exhausted  by  excessive  weeping,  "  Would 
God  it  were  morning ! " 

In  after  years  she  always  considered  these  the  most 
dreadful  trials  she  had  undergone,  because  her  God 
seemed  to  have  forsaken  her,  and  darkness,  like  a  thick 
curtain,  shrouded  her  soul.  It  was  a  time,  too,  of 
dreadful  temptation.  Finding  her  weak  and  unresist 
ing,  the  arch-fiend  suggested,  "See  what  reward  you 
have  gained  by  throwing  off  allegiance  to  me  and 
choosing  God  as  your  portion  ;  "  while  her  own  heart, 
torn  with  anguish,  feebly  echoed,  "  Was  this  sacrifice 
really  required  ?  " 

Alas  !  alas  !  where  was  her  trust  in  Him  who  had  so 
often  appeared  for  her  relief,  —  who  had  promised  to 
make  her  peace  as  a  river,  and  her  righteousness  as 
the  waves  of  the  sea?  Her  cry  was  with  the  psalmist, 
w  All  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  have  gone  over  me ; " 
but  not  like  him  could  she  sing,  "  Thou  wilt  show  me 
the  path  of  life  ;  in  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy  ;  at 
thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  evermore." 

It  was  on  a  clear,  bracing  morning,  near  the  middle 
of  October,  that,  in  company  with  one  of  her  fellow- 
boarders,  she  made  her  entree  into  the  new  life  she  had 
chosen.  It  was  a  novel  and  exciting  scene.  Hundreds 
of  girls  hurrying  in  one  direction  in  answer  to  the 
eager  ringing  of  the  bells,  which,  to  the  throbbing 


JULIETTE.  269 

heart  of  the  stranger,  seemed  to  say,  "  Be  quick  !  be 
quick  !  "  approached  the  ponderous  doors,  and  one  after 
another  were  lost  to  view. 

Keeping  close  to  her  companion,  she  mounted  one 
flight  of  stairs  after  another,  until  they  reached  the 
weaving-rooms ;  the  immense  looms  being  arranged 
in  tiers,  like  seats  in  a  school-house.  Here  she  had 
only  time  to  cast  a  quick  glance  around  and  notice 
some  pots  of  flowers  in  a  window  near  her,  before  her 
companion  introduced  her  to  the  overseer. 

A  few  brief  questions  served  to  convince  him  that 
Miss  Edwards,  though  a  stranger  to  this  business, 
would  soon  make  a  profitable  operative.  Asking  her 
to  follow  him,  he  went  the  entire  length  of  the  build 
ing,  to  a  tier  of  looms  near  the  window,  where,  in 
turn,  he  introduced  her  to  a  tall,  dignified  young  lady, 
with  a  request  that  she  would  give  the  new-comer  such 
assistance  as  might  be  necessary;  then,  assigning  her 
one  loom,  which  was  as  much  as  she  would  be  able  to 
tend  at  first,  he  returned  to  his  desk. 

"  Take  off  your  bonnet  and  hang  it  there,"  said  the 
young  lady,  smiling  at  the  evident  bewilderment  of  her 
new  charge. 

Juliette  stared  and  shook  her  head.  The  thunder 
ing  sound  of  the  machinery  prevented  a  syllable  from 
reaching  her  ears. 

"You'll  become  accustomed  to  it  soon,"  added  the 
miss,  whose  name  was  Agnes  Barnard,  in  a  louder  tone. 
"I  was  stunned  at  first." 

The  sun  was  shining  cheerfully  through  the  many 

23* 


270  JULIETTE. 

windows,  its  rays  falling  upon  numerous  pots  of  ver 
benas,  geraniums,  and  monthly  roses  with  which  the 
girls  had  liberty  to  adorn  the  part  of  the  building  pe 
culiarly  their  own. 

It  was  quite  amusing  to  Juliette  to  see,  hanging  at 
short  distances  on  the  walls,  tiny  mirrors  (private 
property) ,  of  the  use  of  which  she  did  not  long  remain 
in  doubt ;  for,  as  soon  as  the  looms  were  well  in  motion, 
the  operatives  began  to  unloose  their  long  tresses,  and 
while  they  went  on  with  their  work,  proceeded  to  plait 
and  curl,  and  beautify  generally. 

Then  from  the  pocket  of  one  and  another,  a  clean 
collar,  a  breast-knot,  a  brooch,  or  a  dress-apron  came 
forth,  were  arranged  by  a  glance  into  the  tiny  mirror, 
and  their  toilets  were  made  for  the  day. 

In  the  excitement  of  her  new  employment,  our  hero 
ine  had  almost  forgotten  the  discomforts  and  vexations 
of  her  boarding-house  home  ;  but  as  she  hurried  down 
stairs  with  Agnes,  at  the  ringing  of  the  loud  bell  for 
dinner,  she  longed  to  ask  her  whether  all  these  houses 
were  under  the  same  regulations ;  or  whether  tit  might 
not  be  possible  to  improve  her  condition. 

There  was  no  time  for  it  now,  however ;  for  the 
young  girl,  parting  from  her  with  a  smile,  ran  gayly 
into  another  building,  saying,  "  You've  done  finely  for 
a  beginner." 

Though  only  about  hah0  the  period  was  allowed  for 
a  whole  dinner,  consumed  in  a  single  course  at  her 
father's  table,  and  then  the  earnest,  quick,  ringing  call 
was  heard  again,  Juliette  found  time  to  run  hastily  to 


JULIETTE.  271 

her  room  for  a  brief  offering  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the 
brightening  prospects  before  her. 

The  more  she  saw  of  her  young  instructor,  the  bet 
ter  she  was  pleased  with  her.  One  incident  which  oc 
curred  at  night  impressed  her  still  more  favorably. 

After  the  bell  had  rung  for  work  to  cease,  a  number 
of  the  operatives  stood  outside  the  door,  talking  ear 
nestly  about  a  lecture  they  wished  to  attend  in  the  even 
ing.  Agnes  was  among  them ;  indeed,  she  seemed  to 
be  the  guiding  spirit,  and  in  an  earnest  tone  was  press 
ing  her  opinions  on  her  companions,  when  a  man,  con 
nected  with  their  factory,  came  up  and  began  to  talk  in 
a  most  familiar  manner. 

Juliette  shrank  behind  her  friend,  as  she  caught  his 
eye  fixed  boldly  upon  herself,  her  whole  soul  revolting 
from  his  gaze,  and  rude,  coarse  speeches.  One  and  an 
other  of  the  girls  laughed  as  she  was  addressed,  but  to 
Juliette's  great  delight,  Agnes,  with  an  appearance  of 
dignity  which  cowered  him,  drew  herself  up,  and,  with 
out  condescending  to  reply,  swept  away  from  the 
group,  pulling  Juliette's  hand  within  her  arm. 

"Why!  what  are  you  trembling  at  ?"  she  asked, 
with  a  laugh,  as  she  witnessed  her  little  pupil's  pallid 
cheeks. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  shall  not  do  for  a  factory  girl,"  was  the 
faltering  reply ;  "that  man's  dreadful  eyes  and  coarse 
talk  frightened  me  so ;  but  here  is  my  home,"  she 
added,  with  a  sigh ;  M I  wish  I  could  go  with  you." 

"  Well,  come  with  me  to  the  end  of  the  street, 
and  I'll  talk  with  you  about  it.  There's  five  minutes 


272  JULIETTE. 

i 

yet,"  glancing  at  the  clock  on  a  neighboring  church. 
"  I  know  by  experience  how  dreadfully  homesick  one 
feels,  turned,  into  a  room  with  a  dozen,  more  or  less, 
of  operatives,  some  of  them,  all  the  time  they  are 
asleep,  keeping  up  a  lively  tune  with  their  nasal  or 
gans.  I  bore  it  a  good  while ;  but  I've  got  away  now. 
I  get  my  dinner  at  one  of  the  corporation-houses,  be 
cause  there  is  no  time  to  go  further ;  but  I  take  the 
other  meals  and  sleep  in  a  private  family." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  delightful ! "  cried  Juliette, 
warmly. 

"There  are  only  two  girls  there  beside  myself;  and 
I'm  sleeping  alone,  now ;  so  if  you  wouldn't  mind 
occupying  a  room  with  a  stranger,  I  think  I  can  ar 
range  it." 

Juliette's  beaming  face  showed  her  pleasure  as  she 
answered,  "Thank  you,  it  would  be  paradise  compared 
to  the  place  I'm  in  now." 

"Run  back  then,  for  to-night,  as  fast  as  you  can,  and 
have  your  trunk  all  ready,  if  it's  sent  for  in  the  morn 
ing." 

The  thought  that  this  might  be  her  last  night  with 
her  present  landlady  rendered  her  trials  much  more 
endurable  ;  and,  being  exceedingly  tired  in  consequence 
of  standing  all  day,  she  found  it  easier  than  before  to 
imitate  the  example  of  her  room-mates,  and  soon  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  The  wise  and  active  conquer  difficulties 
By  daring  to  attempt  them." 

AS  Miss  Agnes  Barnard  has  been  introduced  to  the 
reader  and  will  act  a  somewhat  prominent  part 
in  our  story,  it  is  but  fair  to  give  her  history  a  little 
more  at  length. 

In  the  northern  part  of  New  Hampshire,  near  the 
dividing  line  between  that  State  and  Vermont,  over 
looking  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Connecticut  River, 
was  the  old  homestead  of  the  Barnards,  now  in  the 
hands  of  Josiah  Barnard,  father  of  Agnes. 

With  a  large  family  dependent  upon  him  for  sup 
port,  including  his  aged  parents-  and  orphan  nephew, 
the  wherewithal  to  carry  on  the  farm  was  not  always 
forthcoming;  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  debts 
were  incurred,  crops  grew  less  and  less,  until  at  length 
a  crisis  was  reached  such  as  had  long  been  feared. 

To  avoid  a  greater  calamity,  that  of  being  obliged 
to  sell  laud,  every  foot  of  which  was  endeared  by  mem 
ories  of  boyhood,  youth,  and  riper  years,  Mr.  Barnard, 
with  a  groan,  consented  to  raise  a  few  hundred  dollars 
for  the  present  emergency,  by  giving  a  note  secured 
by  mortgage,  to  the  'Squire  of  the  village. 

273 


274  JULIETTE. 

The  next  year  both  his  parents  died ;  a  small  legacy 
left  them,  barely  serving  to  pay  the  doctor's  bill,  while 
all  other  necessary  expenses  incurred  in  their  sickness 
rendered  it  impossible  to  pay  off  any  part  of  this  debt 
as  they  had  intended.  The  year  following  the  inter 
est  was  added  to  the  principal ,  until  at  last  despond 
ence  succeeded  melancholy,  and  the  farmer,  scarcely 
beyond  middle  life,  declared,  with  a  burst  of  manly 
grief,  that  he  could  not  meet  his  expenses  ;  that  he  did 
no  know  which  way  to  turn  ;  that,  in  fact,  they  must 
leave  the  dear  old  spot  and  begin  life  anew. 

All  this  time,  Agnes  and  one  older  brother  had  been 
attending  the  Academy  in  the  next  village,  walking 
eight  miles  a  day  for  the  sake  of  acquiring  an  education, 
that  inheritance  of  every  New  England  child. 

Caleb  Barnard  was  well  fitted  for  a  teacher  of  a  dis 
trict  school.  His  secret  hopes  had  carried  him  much 
beyond  this  ;  and,  though  wrell  aware  that  he  could  not 
incur  the  expense  of  a  college  education,  he  had  thought 
it  possible  to  acquire  what  would  be  equivalent  to  it  un 
der  the  care  of  a  private  tutor,  and  thus  qualify  himself 
for  what  he  considered  the  highest  office  of  earth,  that 
of  a  Christian  minister. 

A'gnes,  fourteen  months  his  junior,  had  been  for  the 
last  six  months  an  assistant  pupil  in  the  school.  Tall 
and  erect,  with  a  tinge  of  hauteur  in  her  manner,  her 
countenance  one  that  would  attract  attention  by  its 
ever-varying  expression,  she  had  won  both  among 
teachers  and  pupils  many  stanch  friends. 

Gifted  with  a  quick  discernment  and  a  vast  amount 


JULIETTE.  275 

of  that  desirable  element  called  common-sense,  she  had 
become  more  thoroughly  acquainted  with  her  father's 
affairs  than  any  one  supposed.  Well  aware  that  her 
parents  had  exercised  great  self-denial,  and  strained 
every  nerve  to  give  their  children  a  thorough  educa 
tion,  she  was  now  ready  to  take  her  share  of  the  bur 
den, —  to  bring  some  of  her  young  strength  and  hope 
fulness  to  the  rescue. 

Walking  home  one  night  the  four  miles  from  school, 
she  had  abundant  opportunity  to  perfect  the  plan,  which 
not  now  for  the  first  time  was  suggested  to  her  mind. 
Caleb,  absorbed  in  reverie  (unlike  his  wide-awake  sis 
ter,  his  reveries  were  not  practical  ones) ,  did  not  no 
tice  her  unusual  abstraction,  nor,  as  they  approached 
the  farm,  did  he  observe  the  flashing  of  her  fine  gray 
eye,  the  dilation  of  her  well-shaped  nostrils,  accompa 
nied  by  a  firmer  tread  of  her  foot  as  she  saw  the  wagon 
of  'Squire  Owen  standing  at  the  door. 

Trip,  the  old  family  dog,  came  out  growling  his  wel 
come,  quickly  followed  by  the  'Squire  himself,  prinked, 
primmed,  and  pomatumed  for  conquest. 

Agnes,  more  than  suspecting  his  errand,  confronted 
him  with  a  defiant  glance  from  her  clear,  unshrinking 
eyes,  made  a  haughty  bow, -and  passed  on. 

She  found  her  father  crouching  over  the  fire  in  the 
very  attitude  of  despair.  Naturally  hopeful,  energetic, 
and  somewhat  imperious,  his  accumulation  of  difficul 
ties  had  bowed  him  to  the  earth.  He  had  just  received 
a  visit  from  his  mortgagee,  hinting  at  a  way  their  differ 
ences  might  be  satisfactorily  adjusted. 


276  JULIETTE. 

Now,  in  order  to  realize  the  state  of  mingled  wrath 
and  consternation  into  which  the  father  was  thrown,  it 
is  necessary  to  state  that  the  name  of  'Squire  Owen  had 
.for  years  been  associated  in  his  native  village  with  all 
that  was  mean,  low,  vile,  and  licentious.  To  settle  his 
bill  with  the  'Squire  in  the  way  he  wished,  by  giving 
him  his  daughter  Agnes  in  marriage,  only  seemed  to 
the  despairing  father  in  other  words  like  selling  her  to 
the  devil. 

"  What  did  he  want?"  asked  the  young  girl,  suddenly 
appearing  in  the  room,  like  a  bright  rainbow  on  a  dark 
thunder-cloud. 

Her  voice  was  full  and  clear,  but  neither  father  nor 
mother  had  the  heart  to  answer  her. 

"I  can  guess,"  she  rejoined  with  a  hearty  laugh. 
"  He  came  courting.  He  is  willing  to  take  me  soul  and 
body  in  lieu  of  any  claim  he  has  upon  this  dear  old 
farm. 

"Now,  father,  I  want  you  to  cheer  up,  and  go  to 
driving  the  oxen  with  a  will,  as  you  used  to  before  you 
got  into  the  'Squire's  clutches  ;  for  I  promise  you  that 
to-morrow  morning  you  shall  be  out  of  that  man's 
power,  and  I  wont  be  in  it  either." 

Mr.  Barnard  opened  wide  his  eyes,  groaned  terribly, 
while  his  wife  murmured  with  a  shaking  voice,  "O 
Agnes  !  you  don't  know  what  you  say." 

"Yes,  I  do,  mother.  I've  seen  what  it  was  coming 
to,  and  I've  got  my  plans  all  ready.  Come,  father ; 
instead  of  sitting  there  brooding  over  your  troubles, 
I  want  you  to  harness  old  Duke  for  me.  I'm  going  to 


JULIETTE.  277 

test  one  of  ray  ancient  copies,  '  Where  there's  a  will 
there's  a  way.' " 

Agues  spoke  in  such  a  self-reliant,  hopeful  tone, 
that,  though  her  father  did  not  at  all  believe  that  the 
work  he  had  labored  and  toiled  for  years  to  accom 
plish  could  be  effected  by  the  hands  of  a  young  school 
girl,  be  she  ever  so  sharp-witted,  yet  he  looked  up 
with  a  tinge  of  his  old  impatience,  as  he  cried  out, 
"  I  say,  Agnes,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  unless  old  Duke  is  ready  soon,  I  shall 
have  to  walk  back  as  far  as  the  centre.  I've  business 
to  do  there  ;  and  you  used  to  tell  me  when  I  had,  not 
to  let  the  grass  grow  under  my  feet." 

Without  another  word,  Mr.  Barnard  rose  from  his 
old-fashioned,  flag-bottomed  kitchen  chair,  went  to 
the  stable ;  and,  when  his  daughter,  having  effected  a 
slight  change  in  her  dress,  and  abstracted  from  his  old 
carved  desk  all  documents  pertaining  to  her  father's 
business  with  the  'Squire,  made  her  appearance  at  the 
door,  he  was  ready  for  her ;  not  very  brisk  or  hopeful, 
certainly,  but  still  a  vast  improvement  of  his  appear 
ance  when  he  sat  over  the  fire. 

"Wont  you  tell  mother,"  she  said,  gathering  up  the 
reins,  "that  I  shall  want  some  of  her  best  fritters  to 
night,  as  a  kind  of  celebration  of  our  freedom  from, 
you  know  whom;  and  don't  take  tea  till  I  come.  I 
may  be  late,  but  the  children  wont  mind  waiting  for 
once." 

"  Well,  good  luck  to  you,  child,"  he  answered,  as 

24 


278  JULIETTE. 

she  gave  him  a  parting  bow  ;  "  but  I  haven't  the  most 
distant  idea  what  you're  up  to." 

To  confess  the  truth,  the  girl  herself  had  not  the 
most  lucid  ideas  on  the  subject.  But  money  was 
wanting,  and  money  she  must  have,  to  take  up  the 
mortgage  of  the  'Squire.  Her  own  common-sense 
taught  her,  that  if  there  was  no  other  way,  it  might 
be  possible  to  effect  a  transfer  of  the  mortgage  to  some 
less  unscrupulous  person ;  but  she  had  a  vague  plan  in 
mind  worth  two  of  that. 

It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock ;  Clara  and  the  younger 
boys,  tired  and  hungry,  had  eaten  their  bread  and 
milk  and  gone  to  bed,  when  the  sound  of  wheels 
turning  into  the  yard  brought  the  whole  wakeful 
family  to  the  door. 

"Well,  Caleb,"  she  said  in  a  cheerful  voice,  "I've 
got  home  again.  Put  the  horse  up  as  quick  as  you 
can,  and  come  in.  I'm  hungry  for  my  fritters." 

Mr.  Barnard  was,  by  this  time,  pretty  thoroughly 
"  worked  up,"  as  he  termed  any  state  of  unusual  excite 
ment.  He  gazed  searchingly  in  his  daughter's  face, 
as,  with  the  most  provoking  air  of  indifference,  she 
hung  her  shawl  on  its  appropriate  nail,  and  took  her 
seat  at  the  tea-table. 

Catching  a  glimpse,  however,  of  his  pale,  worn 
countenance,  on  which  care,  of  late,  had  been  plough 
ing  deep  furrows,  she  pushed  back  her  plate,  piled 
with  her  favorite  cakes,  and  leisurely  taking  a  soiled 
document  from  her  pocket,  held  it  out  to  him,  so  that 
he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  name,  and  then  tear- 


JULIETTE.  279 

ing  the  paper  in  two,  threw  the  pieces  scornfully  upon 
the  floor. 

"  Agnes  !  child  !  you're  mad  !  you've  ruined  me  ! " 
shouted  the  old  man,  gasping  for  breath.  "That's  the 
'Squire's  mortgage,  and  he'll  make  us  smart  for  de 
stroying  it." 

To  the  surprise  of  all  present,  she  looked  coolly  in 
his  face,  and  laughed  ;  a  short,  self-complacent  chuckle, 
that  mystified  them  more  than  ever. 

"I'll  be  even  better  with  you  than  my  bargain, 
father,"  she  cried,  turning  to  her  plate  again.  "  That 
document  is  useless ;  the  'Squire  will  never  ask  for  it, 
because  the  money's  paid ;  and,  more  than  that,  I've 
given  him  my  answer,  too !  Can  you  guess  what  it 
was?  Why,  mother!  you  needn't  shake,  and  look  so 
frightened.  It  was  the  most  terrible  blessing  he  ever 

O  O 

asked  for  yet,  —  with  a  snap  on  the  end  of  it,  as  father 
says ;  and  Major  Maltby  standing  by  to  hear  it  all. 
Oh,  it  was  rich ! "  and  Agnes  ha'-ha'd  to  her  heart's 
content. 

But  Mr.  Barnard  did  not  even  smile.  The  relief 
from  his  dreadful  burden  of  care  came  almost  too  sud 
denly.  Covering  his  face  with  both  his  hands,  his 
form  shook  like  a  child.  No  one,  not  even  his  wife 
had  realized  what  he  had  suffered,  at  the  idea  of  giving 
up  his  home,  and  going  among  strangers ;  for  he  could 
never  live  in  sight  of  that  cherished  spot,  and  see 
others  cultivating  his  fields,  or  gathering  around  his 
hearthstone. 

What  a  wild  tumult   swept   over  him   in  the   few 


280  JULIETTE. 

moments  following  his  daughter's  declaration !  Life 
itself  seemed  hanging  on  her  words.  How  she  had 
effected  this,  he  knew  not ;  and  at  first  scarcely  cared ; 
but  she  had  ventured  to  destroy  that  paper,  which, 
ever  since  he  had  given  it,  had  been  a  source  of  con 
stant  anxiety  and  terror,  —  a  kind  of  sword  hanging  over 
his  head,  ready  at  any  moment  to  destroy  him;  now, 
for  the  present,  he  was  safe. 

Agnes  gazed  at  her  father  with  a  peculiar  expres 
sion,  as  he  sat  thus  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  uncovered  his 
face,  she  drew  her  plate  toward  her  again,  and  began 
to  butter  her  fritters,  her  mother  and  Caleb  regarding 
her  with  a  kind  of  awe. 

"But,  Agnes,"  began  Mr.  Barnard,  as  soon  as  he 
could  command  his  voice,  "I  can't  imagine  where  you 
got  the  money  to  pay  it  with.  You're  sure  you  ar'n't 
mistaken,  nor  nothing  of  that  kind." 

"I'm  sure  the 'Squire  thought  I'd  mistaken  my  call 
ing,  when  I  undertook  to  settle  up  his  business  with 
him,"  added  the  young  girl,  with  a  perfect  shout  of 
merriment,  at  the  recollection  of  his  mingled  astonish 
ment  and  rage.  "1  expected  every  minute  to  see  the 
blood  spirt  out  of  his  face.  Major  Maltby  said  he 
would  have  sworn  terribly,  if  he  hadn't  been  so  fright 
ened,  and  so  drunk  he  couldn't." 

The  father  sighed ;  "  I'm  afraid  you've  made  an 
enemy  of  him,  child.  He  never  forgives  an  insult. 
But  you  can't  tell  how  glad  I  am  you  got  that  paper 
back." 

"Now,  I  suppose,  you  want  to  hear  my  story ;  "  and 


JULIETTE..  281 

Agnes  pushed  her  chair  from  the  table,  and  drew  up 
nearer  to  the  group  in  the  old-fashioned  chimney- 
corner. 

"Yes  lyes!" 

"  Well,  let  me  see,  where  shall  I  begin?  .But  first, 
I  want"  to  ask  you  something,  mother."  Agnes  tossed 
her  head,  and  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  smoothe  her 
hair,  but  in  reality,  to  conceal  a  blush. 

"  You  know  our  parlor  chamber  ?  " 

"Yes,  child." 

Mrs.  Barnard  looked,  however,  as  if  she  didn't 
know  what  a  room  that  was  opened  but  a  few  times  in 
the  course  of  the  year  had  to  do  with  the  subject. 

"  Well,  as  we  don't  need  it  for  ourselves,  I've 
let  it." 

"Let  it!  how?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Ashley  has  been  trying  a  week  to  find 
a  boarding-place  ;  and  I  told  him  you'd  take  him." 

This  time  the  heightened  color  was  so  evident  that 
it  could  not  be  turned  off. 

"  Why  !  how  could  you,  child?  He  never  will  be 
contented  to  live  as  we  do." 

"  It's  in  the  bargain  that  he's  to  have  farmer's  fare. 
The  good  room  was  the  great  thing  for  him,  and  a 
quiet  place  to  study;  but  we'll  talk  about  that  to 
morrow. 

"  I  don't  suppose  father  ever  thought  .such  a  wild 
girl-  as  I  am,  could  have  any  serious  hours  ;  but  for  a 
long  time  I've  seen  that  our  affairs  were  growing  worse 
and  worse ;  and  that  you  and  he  were  looking  more 

24* 


282  JULIETTE. 

and  more  careworn  and  downhearted.  I  knew 
something  would  have  to  be  done  pretty  soon,  and 
a  talk  the  'Squire  tried  to  have  with  me  last  week  led 
me  to  understand  his  wishes.  Now,  aside  from  his 
character,  I  know  the  'Squire  will  never  see  his  fiftieth 
year  again ;  and,  as  I'm  only  nineteen,  I  am  of  the 
same  mind  as  the  girl  who,  when  a  gentleman  of  fifty 
proposed  to  her  father  for  her  hand,  answered  promptly, 
*  If  it  makes  no  difference  to  you,  sir,  I  should  prefer 
to  have  two  husbands  of  twenty-five.' 

"No,  sir,"  said  I  to  myself,  "I  must  contrive  some 
better  plan  to  relieve  father  than  that.  All  the  way 
to  school  this  morning,  and  all  the  way  home  to  night, 
I  was  thinking,  and  thinking ;  and  the  result  of  it  is, 
that,  now  it's  coming  spring,  Caleb  must  give  up  his 
studies,  and  work  like  a  man  with  you,  sir,  in  trying 
to  bring  the  farm  to.  I've  often  heard  you  say  that  it 
would  pay  well,  and  yield  a  good  income,  if  you  had 
only  money  to  enrich  it ;  so,  to  obtain  that,  I'm  going 
to  Lowell  next  month  to  work  in  the  factory." 

Mrs.  Barnard  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  a  feeble 
cry,  while  Caleb^  now  fairly  roused,  exclaimed : 
"Agnes,  you're  a  noble  girl,  and  I'm  proud  of  you; 
but  I'll  never  consent  to  such  a  plan.  I'm  the  one  to 
leave  home,  if  anybody  does." 

Agnes  glanced  in  his  face  archly,  arid  then  rising, 
said,  "Now  I  am  going  to  bed  ! " 

"But  you  haven't  told  us,  child,  how  you  got  the 
money  to  pay  the 'Squire.  I  can't  sleep  till  I  know 
that.  It  seems  terribly  like  a  dream,  any  way.  He 


JULIETTE.  283 

said  —  you  know,  wife  —  he'd  come  here  to-morrow 
to  know  the  answer  to  —  " 

"He  wont  come  for  that,  you  may  depend,"  said  the 
young  girl,  with  a  haughty  toss  of  her  head.  "But, 
if  you  must  know  where  I  found  the  means  to  pay 
him,  I  borrowed  the  money,  and  gave  my  note  for 
it." 

"  Yours  !  Your  note  !  "  was  the  excited  exclama 
tion  from  father,  mother,  and  son. 

"  It  was  considered  satisfactory  security  against  all 
loss,"  she  added,  archly.  "  In  justice  I  ought  to  say 
that,  as  I  assumed  the  debt,  no  security  was  required ; 
but  I  insisted." 

The  three  faces,  eagerly  turned  toward  the  speaker, 
showed  that  they  were  more  and  more  mystified. 

"It  was  Mr.  Ashley,"  she  added,  with  a  deeper 
blush.  "  I  met  him  on  my  way  to  Major  Maltby's,  and 
he  offered  the  accommodation.  If  he  continues  to  board 
here,  it  will  be  paid  in  that  way ;  if  not,  I'll  earn 
money  to  take  up  my  note." 

This  time  Agnes  made  such  a  decided  move  toward 
the  door,  that  no  one  stopped  her,  though  the  others 
remained  by  the  smouldering  embers  talking  and 
wondering  till  midnight. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  She  was  the  pride 
Of  her  familiar  sphere;  the  daily  joy 
Of  all  who  on  her  gracefulness  might  gaze, 
And  in  the  light  and  music  of  her  way 
Have  a  companion's  portion." 

THE  events  related  in  the  last  chapter  had  occurred 
nearly  two  years  earlier.  Agnes  left  home  for 
Lowell  three  days  after  Mr.  Ashley  had  become 
settled  in  his  new  quarters,  and  had  remained  in  the 
factories  ever  since,  except  two  visits,  of  a  fortnight 
each,  to  the  old  homestead.  The  note  for  money 
received  had  been  returned  and  destroyed  long  ere 
this ;  and  affairs  at  the  farm  had  assumed  a  more 
prosperous  appearance.  The  timely  relief  afforded 
him  gave  Mr.  Barnard  new  courage ;  and  he  went  to 
work,  driving  his  oxen  and  all  other  business  "with  a 
will,"  as  his  daughter  had,  urged. 

A  most  favorable  arrangement  had  been  made  for 
Caleb  to  Continue  his  studies  under  the  direction 
of  his  pastor,  in  pay  for  which,  Csesar,  Mr.  Ashley's 
black  horse,  received  a  cordial  welcome  to  the  hospi 
talities  of  the  stable. 

Much  of  this  Juliette  did  not  learn  until  a  later 
period ;  but  as  the  arrangement  to  remove  her  from 

284 


JULIETTE.  285 

the  Corporation  boarding-house  proved  successful, 
she  soon  both  loved  and  respected  her  new  friend. 

The  widow  Palmer,  in  whose  family  she  had  now  a 
much  more  congenial  home,  had  one  daughter,  who 
worked  in  the  factory,  and  had  the  charge  of  four  looms 
near  the  place  where  Agnes  stood.  In  this  way  they 
had  become  acquainted ;  and,  finding  that  her  mother 
would  receive  a  few  select  boarders,  a  pleasant  com 
pany  was  soon  made  up. 

Mrs.  Palmer  had  formerly  been  in  affluent  circum 
stances,  as  many  articles  of  rich  furniture  about  the 
house  bore  witness. 

Juliette's  heart  beat  with  pleasure,  as,  on  the  first 
evening  after  her  removal  here,  she  heard  the  full, 
rich  tones  of  a  piano. 

"  That's  Annie  Palmer  !  "  exclaimed  Agnes.  "Let's 
go  down  and  ask  her  to  sing." 

Juliette  gladly  consented,  though  she  had  assigned 
this  evening  to  writing  her  friends  in  Stamford. 

One  piece  of  music  followed  another  in  quick  suc 
cession  ;  sometimes  a  march  or  favorite  waltz,  but 
oftentimes  a  song,  in  which  the  others  could  join  their 
voices. 

At  last  Annie,  sprang  from  her  seat,  exclaiming, 
"Perhaps  you -play,  Miss  Edwards." 

Juliette  blushed,  as  she  answered,  "I  used  to;  but 
I  have  not  touched  the  piano  for  some  months." 

Her  companions  were  all  eager  to  hear  her ;  and, 
taking  her  seat,  she  gave  them  some  simple  melodies, 
as  an  accompaniment  to  her  sweet  but  powerful  voice. 


286  JULIETTE. 

They,  listening  with  almost  breathless  delight,  would 
not  release  her  until  she  had  gone  on  from  Handel  to 
Mozart,  and  from  Mozart  to  Beethoven. 

It  was  at  a  late  hour  that  she  rose  resolutely  from 
the  instrument,  and,  receiving  their  cordial  thanks  for 
the  pleasure  she  had  given  them,  retired  to  her  room 
to  fulfil  the  task  she  had  assigned  herself.  She 
knew  her  friends  at  the  farm  would  become  painfully 
anxious  to  hear  from  her ;  but,  while  situated  as  she 
was  at  the  Corporation  boarding-house,  she  had  not  the 
heart  to  write  them ;  and  was  well  aware  that,  if  she 
told  them  the  whole  truth  about  herself,  they  would 
insist  upon  her  returning  to  Stamford. 

Now,  however,  that  she  was  so  pleasantly  situated, 
and  had  been  two  days  in  the  factory,  —  long  enough 
to  be  able  to  say  that  she  thought  she  should  like  the 
employment,  —  she  resolved  to  delay  no  longer.  Per 
haps  an  extract  from  the  letter  may  be  of  interest  to 
the  reader. 

"DEAR  FRIENDS,  —  As  I  may  now  consider  myself 
established  in  my  new  business,  I  hasten  to  write 
you,  as  I  promised.  After  the  last  glimpse  I  had  of 
James,  you  may  well  believe  I  had  not  much  interest 
in  what  was  passing  around  me.  Indeed,  I  could  not 
for  a  long  time  read  a  word  of  his  kind,  brotherly 
note,  my  eyes  were  so  blurred  with  tears  at  the 
thought  of  the  friends  I  was  leaving  behind  ine. 
Please,  dear  brother,  accept  my  thanks  for  the  little 
parcel  accompanying  your  note,  which-  I  shall  keep, 


JULIETTE.  287 

knowing,  should  I  refuse  to  do  so,  I  should  give  you 
pain ;  but  which  no  circumstance  I  can  now  appre 
hend  would  induce  me  to  make  use  of.  Oh,  how 
often  since  I  left  you  have  I  longed  for  one  hour, 
or  moment  even,  to  run  into  the  pleasant  sitting-room 
to  throw  myself  into  your  motherly  embrace,  dear 
Mrs.  Smith ;  to  hear  your  husband  say,  in  his  old 
friendly  way,  '  Our  lily  is  brightening  up,  wife ; '  to 
feel  the  warm  grasp  of  James's  hand ;  to  receive 
Maria's  kiss,  and  Susan's  cheerful  welcome  !  I  hardly 
dare  tell  you  how  my  heart  achecl  when  I  remembered 
that  it  must  be  months  before  such  a  visit  could  be 

made I   did   not    go    out    of   the    house 

last  Sabbath,  as  it  was  very  rainy ;  but  from  what  I 

hear   of  Mr.   B ,   and   his   kind   interest    in   the 

operatives,  I  think  I  shall  attend  his  church ;  and,  if 
so,  I  shall  carry  him  my  letter  from  Mr.  Allen. 
When  you  write,  I  want  to  hear  all  the  news  ;  whether 
James  continues  to  like  his  school ;  how  Dudley  suc 
ceeded  in  doing  my  business ;  how  far  Mr.  Smith  has 
proceeded  with  his  fall  ploughing ;  and  how  soon  you, 
girls,  return  to  school. 

"  It  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  I  must  stop  writing 
and  go  to  bed ;  if  not  on  my  own  account,  for  the 
sake  of  my  room-mate,  who  has  been  trying  to  sleep 
for  an  hour. 

"  Your  grateful  friend, 

"JULIETTE. 

"P.  S.  —  I  fairly  long  for  a  bowl  of  your  good  bread 
and  milk ! " 


288  JULIETTE. 

This  epistle  was  received  with  great  joy  at  the 
farm ;  and  Susan  lost  scarcely  a  moment  in  commenc 
ing  her  reply,  which  she  sent  off  by  return  of  mail. 

"  O  Juliette !  What  a  naughty,  naughty  girl  you 
are !  I  wouldn't  have  believed  such  wickedness  of 
you.  No  wonder  you  cried  in  the  cars.  I  have  no 
doubt  your  left  ear  tingled  dreadfully,  for  we  all 
abused  you,  calling  you  all  manner  of  hard  names. 
I  shall  throw  up  all  faith  in  signs  if  your  ear  didn't 
burn  then.  Father  said,  by  way  of  excuse  for  you, 
that  you  were  a  poor,  innocent  thing,  not  knowing  the 
ways  of  the  wicked  world,  or  you  wouldn't  have  gone 
and  left  such  a  host  of  money  behind  you.  Then, 
when  I  said,  'I'll  bet  anything  it  was  every  cent 
she  had,'  mother  sat  down  and  began  to  cry, 
while  James  grew  red  and  white,  and  all  manner  of 
colors,  and  flew  round  like  one  distracted ;  and  then 
volunteered  to  go  right  after  you  and  bring  you  back. 

"  Maria  was  the  only  reasonable  one  among  us  ;  and 
she  brought  us  to  our  senses  by  saying,  '  James,  how 
like  a  fool  you  act !  Just  as  if  you  couldn't  change 
the  eagles  into  bills,  and  send  them  to  Lowell  any 
day.' 

"  So,  Miss  Edwards,  that  is  what  we  intend  to  do, 
as  soon  as  we  find  that  this  letter  reaches  you  safely. 

"  Father,  mother,  and  all  of  us  want  me  to  say  that 
it  was  a  great  comfort  to  have  you  here.  (Mother 
misses  you  dreadfully  about  her  caps,  and  can't  be 
persuaded  to  put  on  a  decent  one.  She's  saving  all 


JULIETTE.  289 

that  boxful  you  did  up  for  her  for  Maria's  wed 
ding,  because,  she  says,  with  a  terrible  sigh,  'I've 
no  Juliette  to  do  any  more.')  So  they  don't  want  one 
cent  of  pay.  Please  excuse  my  long  parenthesis  ;  but 
when  I  write  letters  I  must  put  down  just  what  comes 
into  my  head,  Miss  Cook,  my  composition  teacher, 
notwithstanding. 

"Now  I  have  scolded  you  enough  for  that,  I  hope,  to 
make  you  feel  the  enormity  of  your  guilt,  so  I  will  go 
on  to  something  else. 

"Two  days  after  you  left,  Dudley  came  walking  in 
one  evening,  with  a  kind  of  mysterious,  pompous  air, 
which  I  was  sure  betokened  no  good.  After  we  had 
teased  him  a  while,  he  produced  from  somewhere  two 
boxes,  and  gave  them  to  Maria  and  me.  They  con 
tained  the  most  exquisite  pearl  brooches  and  bracelets 
that  ever  were  made.  Maria  fairly  danced  with  de 
light,  and  I  really  believe  wanted  to  be  married  the 
next  day  in  order  to  wear  hers. 

"  I,  being  one  of  the  calm  kind,  you  know,  and,  hav 
ing  no  lover  in  prospect  even,  you  can  easily  imagine, 
sat  down  and  folded  my  hands  demurely  across  my  lap, 
moralizing  upon  the  vanities  of  this  awful  world. 

"  But  you  ought  to  have  seen  James  when  Dudley 
told  him  the  two  sets  cost  seventy-five  dollars.  He 
covered  his  face  and  fairly  groaned ;  and,  until  your 
good  letter  came,  continued  to  torture  himself  and  us 
with  visions  of  you  lying  in  the  gutters,  or  by  the  way 
side  starving  to  death,  with  no  good  Samaritan  at  hand 
to  take  you  up  and  minister  to  your  necessities.  I 
25 


290  JULIETTE. 

believe  he  is  doing  well  in  school;  at  any  rate,  the 
scholars  like  him. 

"Now,  my  dear  little  Juliette,  if  you  will  listen  to 
the  advice  of  one  much  wiser,  if  not  older,  than  your 
self,  you  will  be  less  extravagant  in  your  presents  (the 
doctor  told  us  that  you  tried  to  force  fifty  dollars  upon 
him),  and  lay  up  your  money  for  more  useful  purposes. 

"  With  love  and  best  wishes  of  all,  including  Dudley, 
your  friend,  Susr. 

"P.  S. — Father's  all  done  ploughing,  except  the 
place  for  the  summer  garden,  and  we're  going  to  school 
two  weeks  after  Thanksgiving." 

This  letter,  so  -characteristic  of  her  friend,  Juliette 
had  many  a  laugh  over,  and,  at  last,  as  she  grew  more 
intimate  with  Agnes,  read  it  to  her. 

The  close  intimacy  which  soon  existed  between  these 
young  girls  was  a  benefit  to  both  of  them.  Agnes, 
older  by  only  two  years  than  her  friend,  was  ten  years 
in  advance  of  her  in  maturity  and  practical  knowledge.- 
Circumstances  had  wonderfully  developed  her  powers, 
and,  being  naturally  confident  and  self-reliant,  she  had 
made  her  way  into  her  present  position  with  far  less  to 
wound  and  shock  her  sensibilities  than  Juliette  could 
have  done. 

All  that  she  had  learned  by  experience  was  now 
freely  imparted  to  the  young  girl,  who  so  trustingly 
confided  in  her  for  protection. 

Agnes  had  been  from  infancy  an  ardent  lover  of 
music:  From  the  solemn  notes  of  the  church-organ  to 


JULIETTE.  291 

the  merry  whistle  of  the  boys  in  the  street,  every  sound 
of  melody  inspirited  her.  But  she  had  never  enjoyed 
an  opportunity  to  gratify  this  fondness  by  learning  the 
science  of  music. 

Night  after  night  she  pleaded  with  Juliette  for  one 
more,  and  then   one  more  song,  her  whole  soul  en 
tranced,  as 
* 

"  At  last  a  soft  and  solemn  breathing  sound 
Rose  like  a  stream  of  rich  distilled  perfumes, 
And  stole  upon  the  air." 

"  Why  don't  you  learn  to  play  ?  "  asked  our  heroine 
one  night,  as,  after  they  retired  to  their  room,  Agnes 
continued  to  sing  snatches  of  the  last  piece  she  had 
performed. 

A  loud,  though  rather  heartless,  laugh  was  the  only 
reply. 

"  I'll  teach  you,  if  Mrs.  Palmer  will  allow  her  piano 
to  be  used,"  added  Juliette,  more  earnestly. 

Agnes  caught  her  breath  with  delight.  "  Are  you  in 
earnest?"  she  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Certainly  I  am.  You  have  such  a  taste  for  music, 
and  have  learned  so  readily  to  read  it,  I  have  no  doubt 
you  would  make  a  good  performer.  The  time  for 
practice  is  all  you  would  need." 

"Don't,  don't  raise  any  objection  now!  You  have 
put  the  cup  to  my  lip,  —  do  let  me  drink  it.  Why,  I 
would  get  up  an  hour  or  two  sooner  and  go  without 
my  meals  in  order  to  learn.  O  Juliette  !  you've  worked 
me  all  up,  as  father  says.  When  will  you  begin?" 


292  JULIETTE. 

"To-morrow  night." 
«  Why  not  now  ?     It  isn't  late." 
"  Well,  I'm  willing.     With  such  a  zealous  scholar  I 
shall  get  a  good  reputation." 

"  Who  lives  in  this  house  ?  "  inquired  a  gentleman  of 

the  agent  of  the  L Mills,  as  they  were  walking 

past  Mrs.  Palmer's,  early  one  evening. 

"  A  widow  lady  by  the  name  of  Palmer.  She  has  a 
daughter  who  is  one  of  the  operatives  in  our  factory. 
Possibly  she  plays." 

"Possibly,  but  not  probably,"  returned  the  other. 
"  Just  hear  that,  and  the  voice,  too  !  I  declare  it's 
equal  to  Jenny  Lind !  Do  you  know  this  Miss 
Palmer?" 

"By  sight,  merely." 

"  But  she  probably  knows  you,  and  I  want  you  to 
introduce  me.  Come  ! " 

The  agent  with  some  reluctance  consented,  and, 
greatly  to  the  surprise  of  the  young  ladies,  the  gentle 
men  were  presently  ushered  into  the  parlor. 

Juliette  rose  hurriedly  from  the  piano  in  the  midst 
of  a  song,  and  instantly  recognized  in  one  of  them  the 
person  who  had  been  so  kind  to  her  on  the  night  of  her 
arrival. 

"My  friend,  Mr.  Mclntire,"  began  Mr.  Proctor, 
"  found  it  impossible  to  get  by,  and  pressed  me  into 
the  service  of  introducing  him." 

The  young  lady  was  then  importuned  to  go  on,  and 


JULIETTE.  293 

complied  with  an  ease  and  gracefulness  which  made  it 
apparent  to  them  that  she  had  been  in  polished  society. 

Following  her  own  fancy  in  the  selection,  she  played 
and  sung  some  inspiriting  pieces,  and  then  closed  by  a 
plaintive  air  which  melted  her  listeners  to  tears. 

One  of  them,  at  least,  could  but  apply  to  her  the 
words  of  the  poet, 

"Ah  me !  what  hand  can  touch  the  string  so  fine ? 

Who  up  the  lofty  diapason  roll 
Such  sweet,  such  sad,  such  solemn  airs  divine, 

Then  let  them  down  again  into  the  soul  ? 
As  when  seraphic  hands  a  hymn  impart, 
Wild  warbling  nature  all,  above  the  reach  of  art." 

In  the  course  of  the  week  following,  Mrs.  Palmer 
received  a  note  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Proctor,  inviting 
herself  and  family  of  young  ladies  to  an  evening  party 
at  his  house. 

"Now,  Juliette,"  said  Agnes,  with  a  look  of  mock 
gravity,  after  the  had  been  gazing  with  admiration  at 
her  young  friend,  attired  for  the  occasion,  "your  dress 
is  simple  and  graceful,  but  by  no  means  indicating  con 
tempt  of  worldly  splendor.  I  think  it  necessary  to 
caution  you  against  pride,  or  rather  vanity.  Pride  I 
have  too  much  of  myself  to  speak  a  word  unfavorably 
of  it.  Your  mirror,  though  small,  tells  you  that  you 
look  irresistibly  charming,  and  then  your  whole  ap 
pearance  is  so  recherche;  but,  my  dear,  don't  forget 
that  you  are  only  an  operative,  and  don't  lose  your 
heart  to  that  Mr.  Mclntire,  who  was  so  bewitched 
with  your  music  the  other  night." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Juliette,  blushing  deeply ;  "  but 

25* 


294  JULIETTE. 

there  is  very  little  clanger  of  my  losing  my  heart  at  % 
present."     She  sighed  as  she  uttered  the  last  words  in 
a  plaintive  tone,  and  her  friend,  not  understanding  or 
encouraging  these  sad  reminiscences,  quickly  dispelled 
them  by  leading  her  below. 

Juliette  was  dressed  as  on  the  occasion  of  her  ride 
with  James,  but,  as  she  found  it  was  to  be  a  large  gath 
ering,  in  addition,  had  ventured  to  wear  her  least  ex 
pensive  ornament  for  the  head,  as  her  hair,  though 
growing  fast,  still  hung  in  natural  curls.  But  her 
brilliant  appearance  excited  so  much  attention,  even 
among  their  own  family  circle,  that,  had  not  Agnes 
firmly  protested  against  it,  she  would  have  left  her 
jewels  hidden  in  their  casket  at  home. 

The  party  was  of  such  a  select  nature,  that  Mrs. 
Palmer  was  sure  her  young  boarder's  music  was  the 
sole  occasion  of  their  being  invited,  though,  from  what 
ever  cause,  she  was  pleased  to  have  her  daughter  in 
troduced  into  such  company  as  before  the  sad  change 
in  their  circumstances  she  had  always  been  accustomed 
to. 

Mr.  Mclntire  for  an  hour  before  their  arrival  was  on 
the  qui  vive  in  order  to  introduce  Miss  Edwards  to 
friends  in  whose  presence  he  had  been  expatiating  on 
her  wonderful  musical  powers. 

Agnes,  who  carried  herself  with  the  dignity  of  a 
queen,  glanced  archly  at  her  friend  as  he  politely 
offered  her  his  arm,  and  led  her  the  entire  length  of 
the  rooms  to  a  group  near  the  bay-window.  Here  she 
was  delighted  to  meet  Mr.  B ,  to  whose  pastoral 


JULIETTE.  295 

care  she  had  been  committed  by  Mr.  Allen.  She  had 
already  called  and  given  him  the  letter,  and  been  as 
sured  of  his  interest  in  her  spiritual  welfare.  He 
looked  so  good  and  kind  that  she  longed  to  sit  down 
by  his  side  and  talk  on  those  subjects,  which,  into 
whatever  company  she  was  thrown,  interested  her  most 
deeply.  But  after  a  few  words  with  him,  Mr.  Mcln- 
tire  hurried  her  on  to  other  friends,  and  at  length  led 
her  to  the  piano. 

She  firmly  declined,  however,  to  be  the  first  to  play, 
but  obligingly  consented  to  follow  others  better  known 
to  the  company. 

At  a  late  hour  the  party  broke  up,  Mr.  Mclutire  still 
assiduously  polite  in  his  attentions,  and  scarcely  willing 
to  leave  when  he  had  escorted  the  party  to  their  own 
door. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  Dost  thou  deem 

It  such  an  easy  task,  from  this  fond  breast 
To  root  aflection  out  ?  " 

THE  excitement  of  this  new  life,  the  busy  cares 
occupying  thirteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four, 
and  the  increasingly  numerous  engagements  for  the 
evening,  Juliette  found  prevented  much  of  the  calm 
religious  enjoyment  she  had  known  in  Stamford. 

Though  she  considered  herself  extremely  fortunate 
in  finding  such  a  home,  and  daily  acknowledged  it 
among  the  blessings  sent  by  her  heavenly  Father  in 
answer  to  prayer,  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  her  that  she  was 
not  among  Christian  people.  True,  Mrs.  Palmer  and 
her  daughter  were  constant  attendants  at  church,  openly 
avowed  that  they  respected  religion,  and  firmly  be 
lieved  by  these  outward  observances  they  w^ould  secure 
the  favor  of  Heaven. 

For  a  time  our  heroine  hoped  that  they  were  ex 
perimental  Christians  ;  that  they  knew  what  it  was  to 
have  the  love  of  Christ  shed  abroad  in  their  own  souls  ; 
to  feel  the  power  of  religion  shaping  their  characters 
and  ruling  their  lives.  But  she  was  at  length  obliged  to 
acknowledge  to  herself  that  she  had  been  mistaken. 

296 


JULIETTE.  297 

She  was  often  deeply  pained  by  remarks,  made  at  table 
and  elsewhere,  ridiculing  those  who  believe  in  con 
verting  grace,  and  the  offices  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
renewing  and  sanctifying  the  heart. 

Then  the  Sabbath,  instead  of  being  welcomed  with 
delight,  was  deemed  insufferably  dull  and  tedious, 
unless  there  was  some  exciting  novel  at  hand  to 
beguile  the  weary  hours.  There  was  no  recognition 
in  this  family  of  the  Bible,  nor  of  the  God  of  the 
Bible. 

With  the  exception  of  Juliette,  all  the  boarders 
shared  the  feelings  of  their  landlady  on  this  most 
important  subject.  On  the  first  evening  of  her  arrival, 
when  at  a  late  hour  she  finished  writing  to  her  Stam 
ford  friends,  and  took  her  Bible  to  read  a  short  portion, 
she  could  see  that  nothing  but  politeness  prevented 
Agnes  from  joking  her  upon  her  piety.  As  she  arose 
from  her  knees,  after  a  hurried  effort  to  commend 
herself  to  God,  there  was  the  least  approach  to  a 
sneer  in  her  companion's  voice  as  she  asked,  "Have 
you  any  more  performances  before  you  come  to  bed  ? ''" 

But  when  •  Juliette  earnestly  apologized  for  keeping 
her  awake  so  long,  saying  that  "  She  feared,  after  all, 
she  would  regret  having  taken  her  for  a  room-mate," 
the  young  girl  responded  at  once,  "It  was  all  my 
fault,  for  teasing  you  to  sing  so  long;  so  now,  say 
you  forgive  me  for  my  rudeness,  and  let  us  go  to 
sleep." 

On  Sabbath  morning,  which  occurred  after  Juliette 
had  been  in  the  family  four  days,  the  bell,  which 


298  JULIETTE. 

usually  called  them  up  to  prepare  for  breakfast,  was 
delayed  until  eight,  and  the  meal  was  not  finished  by 
nine.  The  hour  and  a  half  before  morning  service 
was  passed  in  dressing  for  church,  or  in  chatting 
merrily  over  the  events  of  the  past  week. 

Juliette,  having  arisen  at  the  usual  hour,  silently 
dressed,  and,  throwing  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders, 
began  to  read  her  portion  of  Scripture  for  the  day. 
But,  after  a  while,  finding  it  very  cool,  softly  de 
scended  to  the  parlor,  the  coal  fire  in  the  grate  being 
kept  over  night,  and  here  enjoyed  a  delightful  season 
by  herself.  Here,  too,  she  made  many  resolutions  of 
living  in  such  a  way  that,  by  her  example,  she  might 
win  those  about  her  to  the  love  of  her  dear  Saviour. 
She  determined,  also,  to  seek  an  opportunity  of  con 
versing  with  Agnes  upon  the  subject  of  personal 
religion,  and  to  press  upon  her  the  claims  of  her 
crucified  Lord. 

When  the  first  bell  rang,  she  went  to  her  foom  to 
prepare  for  church,  so  as  to  be  in  readiness  to  attend 
the  Sabbath  school,  which  was  held  before  the  first 
service. 

It  was  in  vain,  however,  that  she  urged  Agnes  to 
accompany  her.  A  significant  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
together  with  the  remark,  "  If  I  attend  church  twice, 
it  will  be  as  much  as  can  be  expected  of  me,"  proved 
to  her  friend,  that  as  yet,  she  had  no  realizing  sense 
of  her  guilt  as  a  sinner  before  God,  and  therefore  no 
desire  to  appropriate  to  herself  the  rich  offers  of  me 
diation  by  his  Son. 


JULIETTE.  299 

Though  disappointed  in  being  obliged  to  make  her 
way  alone  among  strangers,  yet  she  was  comforted  by 
the  thought  that  all  those  who  thus  met  together 
assembled  for  the  same  purpose  which  drew  her  there  ; 
and  that  here  she  might  find  that  delightful  Christian 
companionship  which  was  denied  her  at  home. 

She  had  scarcely  entered  the  large  vestry,  before 
she  perceived  Mr.  Mclutire  eagerly  approaching  her. 

"  Will  you  take  a  class,  Miss  Edwards  ?"  he  inquired, 
after  showing  her  to  a  seat ;  "  or  would  you  prefer  to 
join  one  of  the  Bible  classes  ?  " 

Juliette  blushingly  replied  that  she  should  much 
prefer  the  latter,  unless  her  services  as  teacher  were 
really  needed. 

"Excuse  me  for  asking,  Miss  Edwards.  Are  you 
a  professor  of  religion?  Some  of  our  church  are 
strenuous  that  none  others  should  be  placed  in  that 
responsible  office." 

"I  belong  to  Mr.  Allen's  church,  in  Stamford,  was 
the  modest  reply,  and  brought  a  letter  from  him  to 
Mr.  B ." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  glad  !  "  and  he  gave  her  a  searching 
look.  "  There  are  a  number  of  small  classes  in  need 
of  teachers  ;  but  as  they  are  mostly  foreigners,  perhaps 
you  would  object." 

"Oh,  no,  indeed  !  not  on  that  account.  If  they  will 
consent  to  try  me,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  render 
myself  useful." 

"  There  is  every  opportunity  to  do  them  good,"  he 
added.  "There,  yonder,  is  a  class  of  bright-eyed 


300  JULIETTE. 

Germans.  I  will  introduce  you  to  them,  now  if  you 
please,  as  I  see  the  superintendent  is  almost  ready  to 
call  the  school  to  order  for  prayer." 

Our  young  teacher  was  so  delighted  with  her  new 
employment  that  she  could  scarcely  believe  an  hour 
had  passed,  when  the  ringing  of  the  bell  for  public 
service  warned  the  superintendent  that  it  was  time  to 
close  the  school.  With  all  her  heart  she  joined  in  the 
closing  hymn," — 

"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 

Our  hearts  in  Christian  love ; 
The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 
Is  like  to  that  above. ' 

"  We  share  our  mutual  woes, 
Our  mutual  burdens  bear ; 
And  often  for  each  other  flows 
The  sympathizing  tear." 

The  instant  the  singing  was  ended,  Mr.  Mclntire 
was  by  her  side,  to  ask  whether  he  might  have  the 
pleasure  of  waiting  upon  her  to  a  pew.  So  she  had 
only  time  to  smile  and  bow  her  farewell  to  her  class, 
and  express  a  hope  she  should  find  them  all  in  their 
places  on  the  next  Sabbath,  before  she  found  herself 
walking  up  the  steps  into  the  church.  She  was  a  little 
disappointed  at  this  attention,  for  she  preferred  to 
hire  a  regular  seat  of  the  sexton,  to  which  she  could 
go  unattended.  But  even  this  slight  trouble  was 
dispelled,  when,  as  they  passed  through  the  porch,  he 
whispered,  "This  is  a  good  seat;  and,  as  it  is  vacant, 
I  can  secure  it  for  you  permanently,  if  you  wish  it." 


JULIETTE.  301 

Mr.  B was  already  in  the  desk,  and  she  speedily 

forgot  everything  else  in  her  interest  in  the  services. 
As  she  stood  up  with  the  assembled  congregation  to 
receive  the  benediction,  her  heart  fervently  responded 
to  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  I  had  rather  be  a  door 
keeper  in  the  house  of  my  God,  than  to  dwell  in  the 
tents  of  wickedness." 

After  tea  the  question  was  asked  whether  any  one 
was  going  out  to  the  evening  service  ?  Mrs.  Palmer 
replied,  with  a  suppressed  yawn,  "that  she  was  too 
tired."  The  daughter  echoed  this  sentiment,  while 
Agnes  laughingly  declared,  "  she  thought  two  meetings 
quite  enough  for  one  day." 

Juliette,  looking  brighter  and  fresher  than  any 
of  them,  had  just  confessed  that  she  should  enjoy 
going  out  again,  when  a  quick  ring  was  heard  at  the 
door,  and  Mr.  Mclntire's  voice  directing  the  servant 
to  ask  her  whether  she  purposed  to  attend  the  evening 
service. 

She  went  herself  to  thank  him  for  calling ;  but 
declined  to  accompany  him,  and  returned  to  the  par 
lor  to  find  herself  the  object  at  which  all  their  jokes 
were  to  be  aimed.  She  was  glad,  therefore,  to  take 
her  seat  at  the  piano  to  put  a  stop  to  them,  though 
she  refused,  to  take  a  part  in  any  but  sacred  music. 

From  this  time,  her  position  as  an  uncompromising 

disciple  of  Christ  was  well   understood,    and  as  she 

became  more  known  and  appreciated,  the  love  and 

respect  which  she  won  for  herself  prevented  the  ex- 

26 


302  JULIETTE. 

pression,  in  her  presence,   of  opinions  such  as  had 
heretofore  been  a  source  of  much  pain  to  her. 

She  soon  became  so  much  attached  to  her  class  of 
German  girls,  that  no  weather,  however  severe, 
detained  her  from  meeting  them.  When  Agnes  or 
her  other  friends  remonstrated,  she  reminded  them 
that  the  wintry  storms  did  not  prevent  her  going  to 
her  regular  employment  through  the  week,  and,  there 
fore,  ought  not  to  detain  her  from  doing  what  good 
was  in  her  power  on  the  Sabbath. 

But  there  was  another  reason,  and  an  increasingly 
urgent  one,  why  she  feared  she  must,  for  a  time, 
resign  her  class.  By  some  means  or  other,  Mr.  Mc- 
Intire  always  contrived  to  meet  her  soon  after  she  left 
the  house,  and  walk  by  her  side  to  the  vestry.  If,  in 
order  to  avoid  this,  she  started  earlier,  still  he  joined 
her,  carried  her  books,  held  the  umbrella  when  it  was 
storming,  or  insisted  upon  giving  her  the  aid  of  his  arm 
when  the  ice  or  snow  rendered  the  walking  insecure. 

To  be  sure  there  was  nothing  in  his  manners 
unpleasant,  nor  in  his  conversation  unsuited  to  the  day. 
On  other  occasions  (for  he  took  frequent  opportu 
nities  to  call  through  the  week) ,  he  was  lively  and  full 
of  wit ;  but,  on  the  Sabbath,  humble  and  devout. 
She  often  heard  him  spoken  of,  as  an  earnest,  working 
Christian ;  and,  from  his  position  as  assistant  superin 
tendent,  she  supposed  he  was  generally  respected. 
She  would  have  liked  him  as  a  friend ;  but  shuddered 
at  the  bare  idea  of  receiving  his  attentions  in  any 
other  light. 


i 
JULIETTE.  303 

For  the  last  week  or  two,  when  he  called,  he  had 
inquired  for  her  by  name ;  and,  if  she  had  not  in 
sisted  upon  the  family  remaining,  would  have  been 
obliged  to  receive  him  alone  in  the  parlor.  As  his 
manner  became  more  tender  and  empresse,  she  was 
conscious  of  becoming  reserved ;  and  most  ardently 
hoped  he  would  understand  this  as  a  check  upon  his 
attentions.  Twice  she  remained  writing  in  the  dining- 
room  when  he  asked  for  her,  sending  word  she  was 
particularly  engaged.  But  this,  instead  of  damping 
his  ardor,  only  inspired  the  young  man  to  fresh  vigor 
in  the  pursuit;  and  Juliette,  deeply  pained  at  the 
situation  in  which  he  had  placed  her,  was  meditating 
what  course  she  ought  to  pursue,  in  order  to  save  him 
the  mortification  at  length  of  finding  himself  baffled 
in  his  wishes,  when  a  letter  from  Stamford  convinced 
her  her  conjectures  were  only  too  true. 

It  was  from  Susan,  and  ran  as  follows,  — 

"DEAR  JULIETTE,  —  As  you  may  suppose,  we  were 
all  thrown  into  the  utmost  consternation,  by  hearing 
from  Mr.  Allen,  that  a  young  gentleman,  by  the  name 
of  Mclutire,  had  written  him,  as  the  only  friend  he 
had  heard  you  mention,  for  liberty  to  address  you. 
Mr.  Allen  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  brought  the 
letter  to  mother  for  advice. 

"Mr.  Mclntire,  certainly,  as  our  good  pastor  says, 
has  acted  in  the  most  honorable  manner ;  has  given 

Mr.  B his  pastor,  and  many  other  gentlemen  of 

high  standing,  as  references,  to  whom  your  friends  may 


I 
304  JULIETTE. 

apply  in  regard  to  his  character  and  position  in  society. 
Mother  said,  after  she  read  the  letter,  that  his  heart 
seemed  fully  set  on  winning  you. 

"Poor  James,  who  has  never  recovered  his  cheerful 
ness  since  you  left,  looked  like  a  ghost  when  I  told 
him  about  it;  but,  on  his  return  to  the  room,  which 
he  suddenly  left,  bade  me  tell  you,  when  I  wrote,  that 
he  most  sincerely  wished  your  happiness  and  welfare  in 
this  connection,  if  it  should  take  place. 

"Now,  Juliette,  what  would  I  give  to  run  in  and 
talk  with  you  a  minute.  I  could  tell,  by  one  glance  into 
your  truthful  eye,  after  I  had  asked  the  question, 
whether  you  loved  this  ardent  fellow.  I  should  be 
willing  to  bet  my  beautiful  pearls,  though  I  admire 
them  so  much,  that  there  is  a  feeling  in  your  heart 
which  forbids  you  to  accept  him.  I  have  a  reason  for 
this,  too,  that  I  will  tell  you,  though  mother  and 
Maria  have  tried  in  vain  to  screw  it  out  of  me,  when 
I  declare,  as  I  am  always  doing,  that  you'll  never  be 
Mrs.  Mclntire. 

"  Soon  after  you  left,  I  was  sweeping  your  room, 
when  a  small  bit  of  crumpled  paper  fell  down  behind 
the  table.  I  picked  it  up,  smoothed  it  carefully  out,  and 
read  these  words,  written  by  your  well-known  hand,  — 

" '  O  Horace  !  Dear,  dear  friend  !  Where  are  you 
now  ?  Have  you  forgotten  your  promises  to  your  poor 
Juliette  ? ' 

"Now,  don't  set  your  little  heart  to  beating,  and 
don't  blush  so  terribly,  for  no  eye  but  mine  has  seen 


JULIETTE.  305 

the  paper ;  and,  to  prove  that  they  never  shall  see  it, 
I  will  enclose  it  to  you. 

"I  have  no  idea  what  Horace  this  is,  as  I  never 
heard  you  mention  a  friend  of  this  name ;  but  I  guess 
(I  have  a  right  to  guess,  being  a  full-blooded  Yankee, 
you  know),  that  he  is,  or  has  been,  in  a  relation  to 
you  which  will  keep  this  young  Mclntire  from  being 
any  more  to  you  than  he  is  at  present.  Do  write  as 
soon  as  you  receive  this,  and  tell  me  whether  my 
pearls  are  safe. 

"  If  your  friend  should  hereafter  be  in  want  of  a 
wife,  please  recommend  me.  From  what  I  hear  of 
him,  as  active,  zealous,  and,  withal,  ardent,  I  have  no 
doubt  I  should  suit  exactly.  Gentlemen  always  choose 
their  opposites,  you  know ;  and  here  I  am  ready  and 
waiting,  a  quiet,  demure  damsel,  who  never  ventures 
to  have  an  opinion  of  her  own,  nor  to  speak  above  her 
breath. 

"  Mother  wishes  me  to  say  that  father  consents  to 
keep  the  money,  but  only  in  trust  for  you ;  and  that 
he  has  put  it  where  it  will  be  earning  interest. 

"  O  Juliette !  how  I  hate  to  bid  you  good-by !  I 
love  you  more  than  ever,  which  shows  that  I  am  of  a 
lovely,  amiable  disposition ;  for  if  you  were  anybody 
else,  I  should  be  sick  of  your  name  even.  If  I  ever 
do  anything,  no  matter  what,  the  cry  is, f  Why  can't 
you  be  more  refined,  or  more  careful  of  what  you  say, 
like  Juliette  ? '  James  never  does  this ;  and,  by  the 
way,  he  and  I  are  getting  dreadfully  intimate.  He 
does  everything  he  can  think  of  for  my  improvement, 

26* 


306 

and,  in  return,  I  talk  of  the  virtues  of  my  absent 
friend. 

"  But  no  more  at  present  from  your  own 

"SUSY." 

1 

This  letter,  which  she  was  reading  for  the  second 
time,  having  withdrawn  from  the  parlor  to  her  room 
for  the  purpose,  she  had  scarcely  closed,  when  she 
was  summoned  below  to  meet  the  gentleman  in  ques 
tion. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  cried,  half  vexed  with  herself  for 
becoming  so  excited,  and  sitting  down  again  to  attain 
some  composure.  "Why  can  he  not  see  that  I  do 
not  return  his  affection?  How  trying  it  will  be  to  tell 
him  so  I "  She  sighed  heavily  as  she  murmured, 
"  There  is  but  one  person  living  from  whom  I  could 
hear  such  a  question  without  pain ;  and  he  is  where  I 
shall  probably  never  see  him  more." 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  Mr.  Mclntire  was  very  much 
in  earnest  in  his  suit ;  that  he  endeavored  to  overrule 
all  objections ;  and  that  at  last  Juliette  was  obliged, 
with  burning  cheeks,  to  confess  that  she  had  no  heart 
to  give. 

He  walked  the  room  in  agitation  for  some  minutes 
before  he  could  be  at  all  resigned  to  this  sudden  ter 
mination  of  his  dearest  hopes ;  while  the  poor  girl 
wept  in  silence. 

At  last  he  gave  her  his  hand,  as  he  said,  "Though 
you  have  occasioned  me  some  of  the  bitterest  moments 
I  have  ever  known,  yet,  I  do  you  the  justice  to  believe 


JULIETTE.  307 

that  it  was  your  wish,  as  you  say,  to  have  saved  me 
this  mortification.  I  see,  now,  that  I  have  been  too 
much  carried  away  by  the  ardor  of  my  affection  to  see 
or  understand  any  action  designed  to  show  that  my 
attentions  were  not  desired.  For  my  own  peace,  I 
shall,  for  a  time  certainly,  withdraw  from  your  too 
pleasing  society ;  but  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  remem 
ber  that  you  have  called  me  a  valued  friend." 

.  He  held  her  hand  in  both  his,  raised  it  respectfully 
to  his  lips,  and  quickly  withdrew;  while  the  poor 
girl,  who  inwardly  blamed  herself  that  she  was 
obliged  to  give  pain  to  all  her  friends,  retired  to  her 
own  chamber  to  weep,  and  to  long  for  one  word  of  love 
from  her  dear,  absent  Horace. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  I  delivered  thee  when  bound, 
And,  when  bleeding,  healed  thy  wound, 
Sought  thee  wandering,  set  thee  right, 
Turned  thy  darkness  into  light." 

DAYS  multiplied  into  weeks,  and  weeks  into 
months,  until  the  warm  breath  of  spring  began 
to  expand  the  buds,  and  clothe  all  nature  with  fresh 
verdure. 

The  class  of  four  little  emigrants,  with  which 
Juliette  commenced  her  labors  as  a  Sabbath-school 
teacher,  had  increased  to  nine,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  regular  in  its  attendance  in  the  whole  school. 

Contrary  to  the  ordinary  plan  of  the  teachers,  she 
required  them  to  commit  a  few  verses  of  Scripture 
each  Sabbath,  encouraging  them  to  great  accurateness 
in  the  recitation  by  a  reward  to  the  one  who  was  most 
perfect ;  and  then  gave  them  oral  instruction  upon  the 
duties  of  e very-day  life,  often  illustrating  her  meaning 
by  a  simple  narrative. 

The  row  of  brightly  beaming  eyes  fixed  so  earnestly 
upon  their  teacher  was  in  itself  a  proof  of  her  aptness 
at  imparting  instruction.  Mr.  Howes,  the  superin 
tendent,  frequently  found  himself  drawn  to  the  imme- 

'      308 


JULIETTE.  309 

diate  vicinity  of  her  class,  and,  man  of  fifty  years  as 
he  was,  shed  tears  at  her  simple,  earnest  appeals  to 
their  hearts. 

Even  if  she  had  done  these  ignorant,  uncultivated 
girls  no  good,  the  effect  of  this  teaching  kept  alive 
the  devotion  of  her  own  heart.  She  could  not  meet 
them  one  week  after  another  without  praying  for  them, 
until,  at  last,  her  whole  soul  was  engaged  in  their  con 
version.  This  one  hour  was  to  her,  perhaps,  the 
happiest  in  the  week ;  and  any  unusual  tenderness  on 
their  part,  any  signs  of  an  awakened  conscience,  en 
couraged  her  to  more  earnestness  in  prayer  on  their 
behalf.  In  her  own  experience  she  proved  the  truth 
of  the  remark,  "  No  Christians  are  so  happy  as  working 
Christians." 

But  the  zeal  for  her  class  did  not  at  all  diminish  her 
interest  in  the  family  where  she  dwelt,  especially 
in  Agnes,  whose  warm,  noble  heart  and  untiring 
energy  she  earnestly  desired  to  see  consecrated  to  the 
service  of  her  Saviour.  For  many  weeks  she  had 
avoided  any* personal  conversation  on  the  subject,  con 
tenting  herself  with  pleading  for  her  at  the  throne  of 
grace. 

Contrary  to  her  habit  for  many  weeks  after  Juliette 
began  to  room  with  her,  Agnes  now  remained  un- 

• 

dressed  while  her  companion  read  her  evening  portion 
of  Scripture ;  and  once,  when  the  young  disciple 
returned  from  the  closet  where  she  had  retired  for 
prayer,  she  found  her  in  tears. 

"  Juliette,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  one  Sabbath  morning, 


310  JULIETTE. 

as  the  former,  according  to  her  custom,  rose  early  in 
order  to  have  a  season  by  herself  before  the  hour 
for  Sabbath  school,  "you  needn't  move  around  so  soft 
ly  ;  I'm  wide  awake,  and  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

Her  companion  smiled,  and  went  on  dressing. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  honestly  whether  you  go 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath  to  teach  those  little  dirty-faced 
children,  because  you  love  to  do  it,  or  because  you 
think  it  is  your  duty  ?  " 

"Don't  call  my  dear  scholars  names,  Agnes,  and  I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it.  The  first  Sabbath  I  went  I  was 
a  stranger,  you  know  (I  never  told  you  how  disap 
pointed  I  was  that  you  refused  to  accompany  me) ,  and 
I  confess  I  went  from  a  sense  of  duty,  hoping  to  be 
admitted  to  a  class  where  I  might  be  gaining  instruc 
tion  ;  but  now  it  would  be  almost  the  severest  disappoint 
ment  you  could  name  to  be  compelled  to  give  up  my 
scholars.  I  wish  you  could  see  how  eagerly  they  watch 
the  door  for  me,  and  how  their  eyes  brighten  with 
pleasure  as  I  take  my  seat  in  front  of  them,  and  shake 
hands  with  each  one  in  turn." 

Agnes  sighed.  "My  Sabbath-school  teacher  never 
shook  hands  with  her  class,  or  even  smiled  upon  them. 
She  came  in,  took  her  seat,  heard  one  after  another 
recite  the  lesson,  said  coolly,  'Very  well  learned,'  and 
then  looked  over  the  Sabbath-school  books  until  the 
time  had  expired." 

"I  pity  both  you  and  her  with  all  my  heart," 
answered  Juliette,  with  moistened  eyes.  Then  being 
dressed,  she  turned  to  go  below,  as  the  parlor  was 


JULIETTE.  311 

always  empty  at  this  hour ;  but  Agnes,  sitting  upright 
in  bed,  said  quickly,  — 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  go  with  you  to-day.  I  sup 
pose  there  are  Bible  classes  for  the  older  scholars, 
and  then  I  could  go  to  Mr.  B 's  church." 

"  Oh,  I  should  be  delighted  !  "   was  the  glad  reply. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  much  surprised  to  see  Agnes  come 
to  the  table  ready  dressed  for  church ;  and  still  more 
when  she  found  her  intent  on  accompanying  her  friend 
to  the  Sabbath  school. 

Mr.  Mclutire,  who  still  filled  the  office  of  assistant 
superintendent,  came  forward  at  a  glance  from  Juliette ; 
and,  at  her  request,  introduced  her  companion  to  Mr. 
Monson,  teacher  of  one  of  the  Bible  classes.  The  les 
son  was  an  interesting  one,  and,  under  other  circum 
stances,  would  have  roused  the  inquiring  mind  of 
Agnes ;  but  she  was  studying  a  deeper  problem.  She 
was,  and  had  been  for  weeks,  comparing  her  own  use 
less,  self-devoted  life  to  that  of  Juliette's  useful,  dis 
interested  one,  and  asking  herself  what  motive -power 
caused  the  difference.  She  knew  that,  in  natural  en 
ergy,  strength,  and  perseverance,  she  was  far  in  advance 
of  her  companion,  who  had  often  confessed  that  strong 
motives  were  necessary  to  rouse  her  to  exertion ;  but 
here  she  had  been  more  than  two  years  in  Lowell,  and 
who  could  say  she  had  been  benefited  by  her  example 
or  teachings  ? 

"  How  in  earnest  she  seems  !  "  she  said  to  herself, 
as  her  eyes  continually  wandered  to  her  friend's  class. 
She  could  not  see  the  nine  expectant  faces  turned  so 


312  JULIETTE. 

fixedly  toward  their  teacher;  but  she  could  see  Juli 
ette,  her  whole  soul  radiating  from  her  expressive  eyes 
as  she  glanced  from  one  to  another  of  the  youth  before 
her. 

She  began  most  heartily  to  despise  herself,  and  to 
wish  she  had  commenced  earlier  to  imitate  the  conduct 
of  one  so  worthy,  just  as  Mr.  Monson  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  new  scholar  would  not  be  much  of 
an  addition  to  his  class. 

Recovering  herself  with  a  start  as  he  addressed  a 
question  to  her,  and  apologizing  for  her  inattention 
with  a  frankness  that  won  his  regard,  Agnes  bent  the 
whole  force  of  her  mind  to  the  subject  of  the  lesson, 
asking  questions,  and  expressing  her  own  opinion  with 
a  power  and  originality  that  woke  up  the  class  and 
delighted  the  teacher. 

The  tinkle  of  the  small  bell,  reminding  them  that 
the  hour  was  closed,  occasioned  a  feeling  of  regret  to 
Agnes  that  surprised  herself.  After  the  school  dis 
persed,  Mr.  Monson,  with  a  tone  of  great  interest, 
urged  her  to  become  a  regular  member,  assuring  her 
it  would  do  both  him  and  the  class  good  to  have 
one  associated  with  them  so  resolute  in  investigating 
truth.  She  confessed  frankly  that  during  the  first  part 
of  the  lesson  she  was  so  interested  in  watching  the 
earnestness  of  one  of  the  teachers,  who  seemed  to  for 
get  there  were  other  persons  in  the  world  except  the 
little  foreigners  before  her,  that  she  gave  no  heed 
to  his  instructions ;  but  that  for  months  she  had  not 


JULIETTE. 


enjoyed  herself  more  than  during  the  latter  part,  and 
readily  agreed  to  come  again. 

"I  saw  you  watching  Miss  Edwards,"  he  replied, 
more  and  more  pleased  with  his  new  scholar.  tc  Wo 
consider  her  a  model  of  a  Sabbath-school  teacher. 
Though  looking  so  delicate  in  health,  and  evidently 
little  accustomed  to  exposure,  her  place  has  never 
been  vacant  one  Sabbath  since  she  entered  upon  its 
duties,  while  her  zeal  and  interest  in  her  scholars  never 
flag." 

"  I  can  bear  testimony  that  she  prays  earnestly  for 
them,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  tears  gushing  to  her  eyes. 
The  next  moment,  ashamed  of  this  exhibition  of  feel 
ing,  she  turned,  with  almost  a  haughty  air,  away  from 
him,  and  hastened  to  join  her  friend  at  the  door. 

As  they  hurried  up  the  steps,  Juliette  only  found 
time  to  say,  hastily,  "Are  you  sorry  you  came  ?"  when, 
to  her  surprise  and  disappointment,  Agnes  replied,  "I 
never  was  more  vexed  in  all  my  life." 

The  glance  of  sorrowful  reproach  from  her  friend 
cut  her  to  the  heart ;  and  even  after  they  had  stepped 
•within  the  door,  Agnes  drew  her  back  to  add,  "to  think 
I  never  came  before." 

Juliette's  large  eyes  glistened  with  pleasure  as  she 
waited  upon  Agnes  to  her  own  seat,  intending,  if  the 
pew  was  full,  to  seek  another  herself;  but  Mr.  Mcln- 
tire,  who  always  seemed  to  be  at  hand  when  she  was 
in  trouble,  relieved  her,  by  inviting  a  boy  of  ten  years, 
who  had  also  a  seat  in  her  pew,  to  occupy  one  with  him. 

During  the  service,  Juliette  was  almost  sure  she  saw 

27 


314  JULIETTE. 

tears  drop  from  Agnes'  eyes ;  but  she  avoided  appear 
ing  to  watch  her,  and  afterwards  thought  she  must 
have  been  mistaken  ;  for,  on  their  leaving  -the  church, 
Mr.  Mclutire  joined  them,  and  the  young  girl  had 
never  seemed  in  such  high  spirits. 

She  talked  gayly  of  the  congregation,  the  appear 
ance  of  the  minister,  who  was  a  stranger,  and  the 
choir,  but  not  a  word  of  what  they  hoped  had  im 
pressed  her  in  the  sermon. 

After  dinner,  she  rose  hastily  from  the  table  and 
retired  to  her  room,  leaving  Juliette  for  a  few  moments 
below.  The  latter  was  much  distressed  at  her  levity 
after  listening  to  so  solemn  an  appeal,  and  sighed  heav 
ily  as  she  slowly  ascended  the  stairs. 

Her  coming  seemed  to  be  unexpected,  for  Agnes 
shut  up  the  Bible,  which  she  held  in  her  hands,  in  great 
confusion,  her  color  visibly  heightened  at  being  found 
reading  it. 

But  when  her  friend  invited  her  to  accompany  her 
again,  she  coolly  declined,  muttering  almost  inaudibly 
something  about  "a  nap." 

Retiring  as  usual  to  her  closet  a  few  moments  for 
prayer,  she  was  much  grieved  to  hear  Agnes  singing 
a  stanza  of  a  song  altogether  unsuited  to  the  day,  —  a 
rudeness  and  want  of  reverence  she  had  never  before 
been  guilty  of.  She  came  forth  from  her  retirement, 
her  countenance,  instead  of  wearing  the  look  of  eleva 
tion  and  peace  her  companion  had  often  wondered  at 
and  envied,  overshadowed  with  sorrow.  Gently  ap 
proaching  her  room-mate,  who  sat  listlessly  gazing 


JULIETTE.  315 

from  the  window,  she  kissed  her  tenderly,  her  voice 
trembling  with  emotion  as  she  said,  softly,  "I  have 
prayed  for  you,  dear  Agnes,  but  it  will  be  of  no  avail 
unless  you  pray  for  yourself." 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  electrical.  The  young 
girl  sprang  from  her  chair,  and,  throwing  her  arms 
closely  around  her  friend,  gave  way  to  a  paroxysm  of 
grief. 

"  O  Juliette  ! "  she  cried,  "  if  you  stop  praying,  I'm 
undone  forever ;  I've  tried  to  pray,  but  I  can't.  I 
hate  myself.  Oh,  I'm  afraid  there  is  no  mercy  for 
me,  I've  been  such  a  sinner !  You  don't  know,  Juli 
ette,  how  wicked  and  stubborn  my  heart  is.  If  you 
did,  you'd  think  'twas  no  use  for  me  to  pray." 

The  young  disciple,  in  a  tone  of  joyful  exultation, 
cried,  "Dear,  dear  Agnes!  I  will  never  stop  praying. 
I  feel  that  God  has  heard  my  earnest  petitions  for  your 
soul.  Oh,  why  will  you  not  cry  to  the  Saviour  for 
mercy  ?  He  has  never  refused  such  a  prayer." 

The  weeping  girl  shook  her  head.  "I  can't;  I've 
tried  ;  I've  always  been  hearing  from  ministers,  'Go  to 
the  Saviour,  —  give  your  heart  to  the  Saviour ; '  but  I 
don't  know  how." 

"If  you  were  drowning,  Agnes,  and  when  you  felt 
the  water  rushing  over  you,  you  suddenly  realized  that 
you  were  lost,  and  all  the  actions  of  your  past  life 
swept  over  you  with  the  conviction  that  you  were  hast 
ening  to  the  bar  of  God,  you  suddenly  saw  a  man 
standing  near  the  shore  with  a  boat,  which  you  were 
sure  could  save  you,  would  you  not  know  how  to  cry 


316  JULIETTE. 

out,  "O  sir,  take  me  into  that  boat,  or  I  shall  perish '? 
Would  you  stop  to  say,  'I  know  I'm  in  dreadful 
danger;  I  should  like  to  be  saved,  but  I  don't  know 
how  to  ask  yon  to  save  me  ;  I'm  really  afraid  I  must 
be  drowned,  for  I  can't  see  my  way  clear  to  cry  for 
help'?  No;  yon  would  summon  all  your  strength, 
and,  with  your  whole  heart  and  soul,  utter  the  cry, 
*  Save  me,  or  I  perish  ! ' " 

While  Juliette  was  thus  earnestly  speaking,  her 
friend  stood  with  clasped  hands  and  protruded  eyes, 
gazing  and  listening  as  if  for  her  life.  Her  color 
came  and  went,  while  her  heaving  breast  showed  the 
terrible  conflict  within. 

"Now,  dear  Agnes,"  added  the  earnest  disciple, 
"you  are  just  in  the  condition  of  a  drowning  person. 
You  are  sunk  in  a  sea  of  guilt,  until  there  is  no  hope 
for  3^011  unless  you  cry  to  the  Saviour  to  take  3^011  into 
his  life-boat.  He  stands  on  the  shore,  waiting  to  res 
cue  3rou  ;  but  he  cannot  do  it  until  3rou  call,  —  until  37ou 
perceive  your  danger,  and  feel  that  it  is  only  by  his 
help  that  you  can  be  brought  safely  to  land.  One 
earnest,  heartfelt  cry,  dear  Agnes,  one  humble,  peni 
tent  prayer,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner ! '  and 
you  will  be  safe,  — your  soul  will  be  at  peace." 

With  a  low,  despairing  cry,  "  Lord,  save  me ! " 
Agnes  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

Who  can  describe  the  workings  of  the  spirit  of 
grace?  Who  can  tell  the  fierce  struggle  between 


JULIETTE.  317 

indwelling  sin  and  the  mercy  of  God  ?  It  shook  the 
bowed  form,  while  groans  of  anguish  filled  the  room. 

Juliette  stood  gazing  upon  her,  large  tears  rolling 
unconsciously  down  her  cheeks  ;  while,  with  her  whole 
soul,  she  besought  God  to  hear  the  agonized  cry  for 
mercy,  and  to  send  an  answer  of  peace. 

The  first  peal  of  the  bell  had  scarcely  vibrated  on 
the  ear,  when  Agnes  started  from  her  lowly  position, 
exclaiming,  in  a  tone  of  wonder  mixed  with  awe, 
"Can  it  be  that  He  has  heard  me?  O  Juliette,  the 
burden  which  I  have  carried  so  many  weeks  has  all 
gone  !  Can  He  have  heard  my  cry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear  friend,"  answered  the  other,  scarcely 
able  to  control  her  voice.  "  Yes,  his  promise  is  sure, 
'  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  off.» 
'  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy-laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest ! ' ' 

"  Precious  Saviour  I"  exclaimed  the  new-born  soul. 
"  Oh,  how  precious  he  seems  now  !  But  I  can't  realize 
that  it  is  indeed  true.  I  am  so  wicked  ;  I  have  so  long 
abused  his  dying  love ;  so  scornfully  turned  from  his 
oflers  of  mercy.  What  if  it  is  only  an  ecstatic  dream  ?  " 
and  she  turned  upon  her  friend  a  glance  so  full  of 
anguish  that  Juliette  hastened  to  reassure  her. 

"No  wonder,  dear  Agnes,  you  are  at  a  loss  to  com 
prehend  the  wonders  of  divine  grace.  But  it  is  in  the 
power  of  the  gracious,  waiting  Spirit  in  one  moment 
of  time  to  dispel  all  darkness  from  the  hardest  heart, 
to  remove  the  proud,  stubborn  will,  and  implant  within 
the  humbled  soul  a  spark  of  grace  which  will  gradually 

27* 


318  JULIETTE. 

kindle    into  a  flame   of  love   and  praise   durable    as 
eternity." 

The  young  friends,  overcome  by  the  fervor  of  their 
gratitude,  closed  their  arms  about  each  other  in  a  long 
embrace,  such  as  the  angels  about  the  throne,  ready  to 
spread  their  wings  to  shout  through  heaven  the  glad 
news  of  a  sinner  purified  in  the  Saviour's  blood,  might 
•well  envy. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest, 
And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ; 
Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest, 
"Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul." 

TWO  days  later  Agnes  wrote  her  parents,  giving 
an  account  of  the  entire  change  in  her  feelings 
and  sentiments ;  but  before  the  letter  had  reached  its 
destination,  she  received  a  note  from  Mr.  Ashley  con 
taining  the  intelligence  of  her  sister's  death. 

It  was  Tead  with  many  tears,  but  not  bitter  ones, 
for  Mr.  Ashley  remarked,  "We  can  scarcely  call  it 
death,  —  only  the  beginning  of  an  immortal,  glorious 
life.  For  her  the  grim  messenger  had  no  terror. 
With  a  heavenly  smile,  and  words  of  welcome,  she 
greeted  him  as  the  long  expected  friend  who  was  sent 
to  summon  her  to  the  Paradise  above." 

"  We  longed  to  have  you  with  us,"  added  the  young 
pastor,  at  the  close,  "  and  our  earnest  prayers  ascended 
to  heaven  from  the  grave  of  our  departed  friend,  that 
from  her  death  spiritual  life  might  commence  in  your 
soul." 

"He  will  rejoice  with  me  as  he  has  sorrowed  over 

319 


320  JULIETTE. 

my  wayward,  guilty  heart,"  faltered  Agnes,  giving  the 
letter  into  the  hands  of  her  friend. 

"  I  must  now  begin  life  in  earnest,"  she  exclaimed, 
returning  from  the  factory  one  evening,  having  on  her 
way  home  pressed  one  and  another  of  her  companions  to 
embrace  Christ  as  her  Saviour.  "  It  seems  dreadful  to 
me  to  pass  so  many  hours  in  tending  those  senseless 
looms,  when  I  ought  to  be  praising  God,  and  trying  to 
persuade  others  to  praise  him." 

Neither  the  family  of  Mrs.  Palmer  nor  her  fellow- 
boarders  at  the  Corporation  House,  where  she  and 
Juliette  took  their  dinner,  were  long  left  in  doubt  as 
to  the  cause  of  the  brightly  beaming  eyes,  the  calm 
serenity  of  the  brow,  and  the  subdued,  humble  manners 
of  the  once  haughty  girl.  She  had  formerly  rejoiced  at 
the  position  of  superiority  her  talents  and  education 
had  won  for  her ;  but  she  now  rejoiced  more  than  ever 
because  it  gave  her  influence  with  her  friends,  and 
enabled  her  more  earnestly  to  work  for  her  Saviour. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  be  a  missionary !  "  ex 
claimed  the  impetuous  girl,  as,  after  the  second  service 
on  the  Sabbath,  they  had  accompanied  Juliette  to  the 
home  of  one  of  her  scholars,  who  was  sick.  "  How 
delightful  it  must  be  to  spend  one's  whole  life  in  teach 
ing  the  ignorant  the  name  of  Jesus  !  " 

"Yes,"  replied  her  friend,  with  a  smile ;  " but  there 
is  much  we  can  do,  situated  as  we  are  now.  There  is 
work  for  a  score  of  missionaries  in  this  one  city." 

The  spring  and  summer  months  fled  swiftly  by,  and 


JULIETTE. 


as  yet  Juliette  had  found  no  opportunity  to  visit 
her  friends  in  Stamford.  Susan's  letters  represented 
James  as  at  home,  at  work  upon  the  farm ;  his  manners 
growing  every  week  more  grave  and  quiet.  "If  he  is 
still  suffering  from  disappointment,  how  cruel,"  she 
thought,  "to  renew  it  by  visiting  him."  It  was  not, 
however,  without  keen  regret  that  she  determined  to 
postpone  her  visit  till  another  summer,  and  accept 
Agnes'  invitation  to  accompany  her  home. 

In  July  they  had  joined  an  excursion,  planned  by 
Mr.  Mclntire  for  their  Sabbath  school.  Whether  the 
following  proposal  was  a  part  of  his  programme  at 
that  tune  is  not  known  ;  but  it  is  certain  that,  having 
waited  as  long  as  he  thought  was  reasonable  for  the 
appearance  of  Juliette's  lover,  he  took  this  opportu 
nity  once  more  to  urge  his  own  affection. 

Her  answer  was  so  decided  that,  feeling  there  was 
no  longer  hope,  and  knowing  it  would  increase  his 
suffering  to  be  where  he  could  see  her,  he  accepted  a 
good  offer,  and  removed  his  business  to  New  York. 

It  was  a  glorious  day  in  September  that  our  heroine' 
and   her   friend,  having   obtained   from  the  overseer 

leave  of  absence  for  a  fortnight,  left  the  cars  at  E , 

the  nearest  station  to  the  Barnard  homestead,  packed 
themselves  and  their  baggage  into  the  covered  wagon, 
belonging  to  the  farm,  and  started,  in  company  with 
Caleb,  for  home. 

He  was  a  reserved  man,  but  on  this  occasion  gave 
himself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  meeting  his  sister,  and 


322  JULIETTE. 

answered  her  numerous  questions  with  playful  frank 
ness. 

"Yes,  father  and  mother  are  well;  the  children 
more  so,  and  Ishmael  most  of  all.  Old  Duke  has 
been  turned  out  to  green  pastures  for  the  term  of  his 
natural  life ;  having  won  this  inscription  for  his 
memory :  "  Served  well  in  his  day  and  generation." 
A  pair  of  steers  now  follow  in  the  steps  his  feet  have 
trod,  and  the  family  ride  to  church  after  Caesar,  Mr. 
Ashley's  horse. 

"So  he  is  still  there,"  said  Agnes,  assuming  an 
indifferent  tone,  and  hiding  her  blushes  by  looking 
from  the  tiny  window  of  the  carriage. 

"  Of  course  he  is.  Why  he's  as  much  at  home  at 
the  farm  as  mother  is,  and  takes  almost  as  much 
interest  in  the  family." 

With  a  sudden  recollection  of  her  cold  hauteur 
toward  the  pastor  the  last  time  she  was  at  home,  he 
added,  with  more  earnestness,  — 

"If  you  had  been  there,  Agnes,  when  Clara  was 
sick,  and  seen  him  ministering  to  her  with  a  brother's 
tenderness,  you  would  have  got  over  your  old  preju 
dice  ;  you  couldn't  have  helped  it." 

Juliette  caught  the  sound  of  a  low,  suppressed  sob ; 
but  she  could  not  see  her  friend's  face,  as  it  was  still 
turned  toward  the  window ;  but  presently  Agues 
spoke  in  a  tremulous  voice,  — 

"  Tell  me  about  Clara,  Caleb." 

For  the  remainder  of  the  ride  he  did  tell  of  her 
sufferings  and  of  her  triumphs ;  of  her  peaceful  ap- 


JULIETTE.  323 

proach  to  the  dark  valley;  of  her  entreaties  to  her 
parents  and  brothers  to  follow  her  to  heaven ;  of 
the  holy  teachings  of  their  loved  pastor,  who  gently 
led  her  on  to  the  very  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem, 
and  of  her  ecstatic  visions  of  the  joys  in  reserve  for  her. 

The  tears  of  Agnes  flowed  fast,  and  Juliette's  eyes 
glistened  with  sympathizing  drops. 

"We  missed  you  sadly,"  continued  Caleb.  "Mr. 
Ashley  thought  of  sending  for  you  ;  but  her  death  was 
very  sudden  at  the  last,  so  there  was  no  time." 

They  rode  on  in  silence,  and  at  last  Agnes  began 
to  gaze  eagerly  about,  as  she  recognized  familiar  ob 
jects. 

"Whose  horse  is  this,  Caleb?"  she  inquired.  "He 
is  a  splendid  creature." 

"Why,  it's  Caesar.  Didn't  you  know  him?  Mr. 
Ashley  had  a  funeral  to  attend  at  the  West  District ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  heard  this  was  the  day  you  were  ex 
pected,  he  insisted  I  should  take  him.  '  Three  miles/ 
he  urged,  'is  not  much  of  a  walk.'" 

"Three  miles,  why  it's  six  there  and  back!"  ex 
claimed  Agues,  with  some  impatience.  "  I  wish  you 
had  refused  to  take  him.  I  had  rather  have  rode  after 
the  oxen.  I  hate  to  be  under  an  obligation." 

"  We're  under  too  much  to  him  now,  to  feel  moved 
at  a  trifle  more  or  less,"  remarked  Caleb,  gravely. 
"But  I  do  hope,  if  you  dislike  him,  as  it  seems  to  me 
to  be  entirely  without  cause,  you'll  keep  it  to  your 
self." 

To  Juliette's  surprise,   the   sister  made   no  reply; 


324  JULIETTE. 

and  presently,  in  a  gayer  tone,  Caleb  asked,  "Did  wo 
write  you  about  the 'Squire  ?" 

"  No,  I've  heard  nothing." 

"  Well,  he's  married." 

"  To  whom?  "  cried  Agnes,  with  a  laugh. 

"To  a  widow  lady  he  found  in  Boston.  But  that 
isn't  the  worst  of  it ;  they've  separated  again." 

"  Just  what  she  might  have  expected.  I  told  you 
about  my  old  beau,  Juliette.  He  lives  in  this  large 
house  we're  just  passing.  I  might  have  lived  there, 
too,  if  I  had  chosen,  and  had  a  Mrs.  tackled  on  to  my 
name." 

Agnes'  eyes  danced  with  merriment,  while  her 
friend  remarked,  with  a  smile,  "It  is  a  fine  place. 
Those  grand  old  trees  are  worth  a  fortune." 

Every  house,  tree,  and  shrub  were  now  regarded 
with  interest ;  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  Agnes  announced, 
with  a  glad  shout,  "  There's  home  and  father  ! " 

How  Juliette's  heart  vibrated  to  these  words,  "  Home 
and  father !  "  "  Shall  I  ever  be  allowed  to  return  to 
mine?" 

The  whole  family  quickly  assembled  at  the  door,  in 
their  own  peculiar  way  making  known  their  joy  at 
receiving  the  daughter  and  sister.  Nor  was  the  friend 
forgotten ;  as  one  loved  by  Agues,  they  welcomed 
her  with  all  their  hearts. 

Mr.  Ashley,  whose  seat  was  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
matron,  did  not  arrive  until  they  were  seated  at  the 
bountifully  spread  table. 

Agues  recognized   his   step   before  he  entered  the 


JULIETTE.  325 

house,   and  was  vexed   at  herself  that  she  could  not 
keep  dovvu  the  rising  color. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  intently  on  her  plate,  she  said 
not  a  word  until  a  lad  with  light,  wavy  hair,  and 
earnest  blue  eyes,  cried  out,  "There's  Mr.  Ashley ! 
You  haven't  seen  him  yet,  have  you,  Agnes?" 

The  gentleman  entered,  and  with  extended  hand 
approached  the  table. 

The  young  girl  arose  from  her  chair,  and  gave  him 
hers  with  great  cordiality.  There  was  one  searching 
glance  into  his  face,  a  rushing  of  blood  from  the 
heart,  and  she  recovered  herself  directly  to  introduce 
"Miss  Edwards." 

He  started,  and  Juliette  turned  pale;  emotion  not 
unnoticed  by  Agnes ;  but  he  instantly  gave  her  his 
hand,  and  added  his  welcome  to  W . 

His  coming  seemed  to  produce  a  constraint.  Agnes, 
before  so  talkative,  relapsed  into  silence,  or  only 
answered  briefly  as  possible  the  questions  put  to  her. 

Mr.  Ashley  talked  with  Juliette,  asking  about  fac 
tory  life,  the  length  of  time  she  had  resided  in  Lowell, 
etc.,  etc. ;  she  answering  with  readiness,  and  appear 
ing  much  pleased  with  his  frank,  cordial  address. 

Agnes,  with  a  sharp  pain  at  her  heart,  watched 
them  closely,  and  noticed  that  whenever  Juliette's 
eyes  were  fixed  on  her  plate,  he  regarded  her  with  a 
peculiar  expression.  Notwithstanding  every  effort  to 
throw  it  off,  her  manner  toward  him  grew  every  mo 
ment  more  reserved.  This,  however,  instead  of  pro 
ducing  an  unfavorable  impression  on  the  gentleman, 
28 


326  JULIETTE. 

rather  seemed  to  raise  his  spirits.  He  exerted  him 
self  to  be  agreeable,  and  soon,  while  enjoying  his 
bread  and  milk,  the  diet  to  which  he  confined  himself 
at  night,  set  the  whole  table  laughing  at  an  account  he 
gave  them  of  a  scene  he  had  witnessed. 

After  tea  Agnes  immediately  left  the  room,  Mr. 
Ashley  following,  and  detaining  her  a  moment  in  the 
entrjr.  He  spoke  in  a  low  voice ;  but  Juliette  heard 
her  answer  firmly,  "  Certainly  not,  sir.  It  is  not  at  all 
necessary." 

"  Very  well !  "  was  his  cool  rejoinder,  returning  to 
the  sitting-room.  He  sat  down  for  a  moment  and 
knit  his  brows,  as  if  something  unpleasant  had 
occurred ;  but  presently  rallied,  and  carried  on  a 
lively  conversation  with  Juliette.  "  Have  you  ever 
been  in  this  part  of  the  country  before,  Miss  Juliette?" 

"No,  sir,"  she  answered,  rather  surprised  at  his 
familiar  address. 

"  You  are  not  a  native  of  Lowell,  I  think  ?  " 

Again  he  regarded  her  with  that  peculiar  expression. 
She  blushed  as  she  answered,  "Oh,  no,  sir!  I  was 
born  in  New  York." 

"  Ah,  well,  that  is  a  stirring  city.  I  used  to  visit 
it  frequently  when  I  was  a  member  of  Yale  College." 

"  Indeed  ! "  responded  Juliette,  a  rush  of  memories 
sweeping  over  her,  and  in  the  midst  of  them  a  vague 
recollection  of  having  seen  a  gentleman  strongly 
resembling  Mr.  Ashley ;  but  the  name,  certainly,  was 
not  familiar. 

What   should  she  do  if  he  remembered  her,  too? 


JULIETTE.  327 

In  great  confusion  she  attempted  to  turn  the  con 
versation,  when  he  added,  "What  a  wonderful  faculty 
is  memory !  Your  countenance  is  strangely  familiar, 
and  carries  me  back  to  college  life  and  college  days. 
Did  you  ever  visit  the  colleges  in  New  Haven  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  never;  but  I,  too,  have  seen  somewhere  a 
person  very  like  you ;  I  noticed  it  when  we  first  met." 

Again  that  curious,  expressive  glance. 

Poor  Agnes,  unperceived  by  them,  had  advanced 
to  the  door  to  call  Juliette,  stood  there  a  moment,  just 
long  enough  to  see  that  look,  and  the  confusion  it 
caused,  and  quickly  retired  without  speaking. 

"Possibly  you  may  hereafter  be  able  to  call  it  to 
mind,"  he  remarked,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

He  then  began  to  talk  of  Agnes ;  of  the  change  in 
her'  feelings ;  was  glad  to  know  her  friend  thought 
it  genuine ;  should  have  supposed  from  the  little  he 
had  seen  of  her  at  the  table  that  she  was  much  the 
same  as  before.  Agnes  had  written  often  of  her 
friend,  and  ascribed  her  conversion,  under  God,  to  her 
earnest  prayer. 

Juliette  expatiated  on  the  character  of  her  room 
mate  ;  described  their  first  meeting  in  the  factory,  and 
the  pains  Agnes  had  taken  to  provide  her  a  pleasant 
home.  Growing  warm  with  the  subject,  as  she  saw 
her  hearer's  keen  eye  flash  with  interest,  she  spoke 
of  her  friend's  energy  and  enthusiasm  ;  how  eager  she 
was  for  instruction,  —  how  quick  to  acquire  knowl 
edge, —  the  perseverance  with  which  she  had  learned 
to  play  the  piano, Awhile  neglecting  none  of  her  daily 


328  JULIETTE. 

duties,  but  above  all,  her  untiring  zeal  in  serving 
Christ, — her  influence  in  the  mills,  having  prevailed 
upon  so  rhany  of  the  operatives  to  join  the  Sabbath 
school,  that  four  new  classes  had  been  formed. 

"And  is  she  a  teacher?"  inquired  the  gentleman, 
rising  and  looking  from  the  window. 

"  No,  sir.  It  is  a  rule,  I  think,  of  the  school,  that 
none  but  professors  should  fill  that  office.  Perhaps 
it  is  necessary  in  such  a  place." 

"  Then  she  is  not  a  church  member?  " 

Juliette  wondered  at  the  apparent  indifference  with 
which  he  asked  this  question  ;  but  replied,  "No,  sir. 
She  says  this  is  her  home ;  and  it  is  her  wish  to  join 
here.  I  think  she  is  a  noble  girl;  and,  though  she 
may  never  become  a  missionary,  as  she  desires,  yet 
she  will  be  useful  anywhere. 

This  time  Mr.  Ashley  walked  deliberately  to  the 
outer  door,  stood  there  a  moment,  and  then  as  coolly 
returned  to  his  seat  by  her  side.  "Miss  Agnes  is 
very  happy  in  having  so  warm  a  friend.  I  am  glad  to 
hear  this  account,  nor  am  I  surprised  at  it.  She  has 
the  elements  which  would  well  fit  her  for  the  life  of  a 
missionary.  I  am  not  so  fortunate  as  to  enjoy  her 
confidence,  but  —  " 

The  lad  the  family  sportively  called  Ishmacl  came 
in  suddenly  at  this  moment,  and  approaching  the  gen 
tleman,  leaned  on  his  shoulder  with  the  confidence 
and  affection  of  a  brother. 

Mr.  Ashley  smiled  as  he  patted  the  boy's  cheek, 


JULIETTE.  329 

and  asked,  "How  now,  Willie,  docs  Csesar  need  my 
services  ?  " 

"I'll  feed  him,  if  you'll  let  me,  sir,"  responded  the 
boy,  his  bright  eyes  fixed  on  his  friend. 

"  You  shall  help  me,  Willie.  I  suppose  you're  very 
glad  to  see  your  cousin  again." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !  "  then  speaking  in  a  whisper,  "  She 
didn't  call  me  Ishmael ;  and  she  kissed  me,  too." 

"I'm  very  glad,  dear,"  he  responded  in  the  same 
low  tone ;  then,  glancing  archly  at  Juliette,  — 

"  This  is  my  young  friend,  Willie  Porter,"  he  added, 
bringing  forward  the  boy ;  "  an  orphan  child  adopted 
by  his  uncle,  Mr.  Barnard." 

"How  do  you  do,  Willie?"  she  asked,  giving  him 
her  hand  with  a  smile  that  quite  won  his  heart. 

The  boy  made  a  bow,  a  natural  and  not  ungraceful 
one  as  he  replied,  "  I  thank  you,  I  am  well." 

"  Now  Caesar  shall  have  his  supper,"  said  the  gentle 
man,  rising.  "Run,  Willie,  I'll  be  there  presently." 

"Miss  Juliette,"  he  remarked,  turning  toward  her, 
"  It  must  be  I  have  met  you  before  ;  and  yet  the  lady 
I  saw  was  scarcely  older  than  you  are  now,  and  that 
was  four  years  ago.  She  must  have  been,  let  me  see, 
as  much  as  nineteen." 

"  Which  is  just  my  age,"  remarked  Juliette,  regret 
ting  her  frankness,  however,  as  soon  as  she  had 
spoken.. 

"  Ah  !  I  should  have  supposed  you  much  younger. " 
And  with  a  bow,  he  left  her. 

She  went  to  the  kitchen  to  find  Agnes,  wondering 

28* 


330  JULIETTE. 

much  she  had  been  left  so  long  with  a  stranger ;  but 
the  room  was  deserted ;  and,  hearing  voices  upstairs, 
she  ventured  to  follow  the -sound,  and  presently,  saw 
the  young  girl  weeping  over  a  tress  of  soft,  brown 
hair ;  her  mother  sitting  by  her  side,  their  faces  bear 
ing  the  marks  of  strong  emotion. 

They  started  up  when  they  saw  her,  and  Agnes  said, 
"This  is  dear  Clara's  hair.  Mother  has  been  telling 

O 

me  about  her  last  hours.  But  you  are  tired,  and  I 
will  show  you  our  room.  It  is  a  small  one,  you  see," 
she  added.  "Clara  used  to  occupy  it  with  me.  I  didn't 
realize  before  how  much  I  should  miss  her." 

Their  trunks  had  been  brought  up,  and  they  pro 
ceeded  to  unpack  them,  and  hang  the  dresses  in  the 
closet. 

"  How  glad  you  must  be  to  get  home ! "  remarked 
Juliette,  in  a  cheerful  tone ;  "  they  are  all  so  pleased 
to  see  you." 

To  her  surprise,  her  companion  burst  into  tears ; 
but  almost  instantly  controlling  herself  said,  gravely, 
"Yes;  but  it  does  not  seem  as  I  expected.  I  don't 
think  I  shall  stay  as  long  as  I  mentioned  to  you  at 
first." 

Juliette  did  not  wonder  at  her  emotion,  supposing  it 
to  refer  to  the  decease  of  her  sister. 

"I  ought  to  tell  you,  perhaps,"  said  Agnes,  in  a  con 
strained  voice,  "  that  Mr.  Ashley  offered  to  give  up  his 
room  to  you,  and  take  this ;  a  civility  not  often  exer 
cised,  I  imagine.  I  took  the  liberty  to  refuse  for 
you." 


JULIETTE.  331 

"  Certainly ;  I  would  not  have  taken  his  room  fop 
anything."  She  gazed  earnestly  in  her  friend's  flushed 
face,  and  was  about  to  say,  "I  think  you  do  wrong  to 
be  so  prejudiced  against  him,"  but  checked  herself,  and 
presently  the  bell  rung  for  family  prayers. 

"  How  strange  it  will  seem  ! "  murmured  Agnes.  "  It 
was  Mr.  Ashley's  plan  a  few  months  before  Clara's 
death.  Mother  has  been  telling  me  about  it.  Come, 
let's  go  down." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  Nor  less  was  she  in  heart  affected ; 
But  that  she  masked  it  with  haughtiness, 
For  fear  she  should  of  lightness  be  detected." 

THE  next  afternoon,  as  Mrs.  Barnard,  her  daugh 
ter,  and  Juliette  were  sitting  together  in  the  par 
lor,  Mr.  Ashley,  who  passed  every  morning  in  his 
study,  opened  the  door,  his  riding-whip  in  his  hand. 
"I  am  going  to  the  South  Parish,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Agnes,  "and  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  that  you  might 
like  to  see  your  old  friends  there ;  if  so,  I  should  be 
most  happy  of  your  company." 

The  young  girl  was  startled  at  this  sudden  proposal, 
blushed  rosy-red,  but  with  the  least  tinge  of  haughti 
ness  declined. 

"Miss  Juliette,  perhaps,  will  take  your  place,"  said 
he,  no  ways  disconcerted.  "I  should  like  her  first  im 
pressions  of  our  town." 

"Oh,  no,  I  thank  you,"  she  commenced;  but  both 
Mrs.  Barnard  and  Agnes  urged  her  so  strongly,  —  the 
gentleman  reminding  her  that  it  was  a  fine  day,  and 
not  to  be  wasted  in  the  house,  —  that  almost  before  she 
was  aware,  her  bonnet  and  mantilla  were  donned,  and 

332 


JULIETTE.  333 

she  was  flying  along  the  road  after  black  Caesar,  who 
seemed  to  be  in  fine  spirits. 

After  a  few  moments,  Mr.  Ashley  succeeded  in  calm 
ing  him,  and  they  rode  on  through  the  village  in  si 
lence  ;  when  turning  a  little  on  his  seat,  where  he 
could  watch  her  countenance,  he  said,  suddenly,  "  Were 
you  ever  in  D ,  Miss  Juliette  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  faltered,  alarmed,  she  knew  not  why ; 
"  I  attended  school  there  many  years." 

"  At  Mrs.  Osborn's,  probably." 

"Yes,  sir." 

A  pause  again. 

"  Miss  Juliette,  you  may  think  me  very  abrupt ; 
possibly  I  may  excite  your  displeasure ;  but  I  am  a 
frank  man,  and  dislike  mysteries.  I  recognized  you 

at  once  as  Miss  Fearing.  I  went  to  D four 

years  ago,  in  company  with  a  half-brother  of  yours, 
and  passed  two  or  three  hours  in  your  society.  You 
will  not  think  it  flattery  when  I  say  yours  is  not  a 
countenance  easily  forgotten.  Knowing  well  your 
brilliant  position  in  society,  you  can  easily  imagine  I 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  meet  you  here  in  this  ob 
scure  place,  having  been  an  operative  in  Lowell,  known 
by  the  name  of  Edwards." 

Surprise,  joy,  and  grief,  by  turns,  contended  for 
mastery  in  Juliette's  breast  while  he  was  speaking  ;  but 
joy  was  uppermost  at  hearing  the  name  of  her  cherished 
friend  from  one  who  knew  and  loved  him. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  she  exclaimed,  her  truthful  eyes  stead- 


334  JULIETTE. 

ily  meeting  his;  "I  recollect  it  all,  now;  but  your 
name  was  not  Ashley  then." 

"  My  name  is  George  Benson  Ashley ;  probably  you 
heard  me  addressed  as  Benson  ;  your  brother  gener 
ally  called  me  so,  as  there  were  two  other  Ashley s  in 
college  at  the  time." 

"  Mine  is  Juliette  Edwards  Fearing,"  rejoined  the 
young  girl.  "  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  wise  to 
drop  the  last  name.  If  you  are  willing  to  hear  me,  I 
should  like  to  tell  you  some  things  about  myself;  but 
have  you  heard  of  late  from  my  brother,  —  from  Hor 
ace?  I  have  heard  nothing  for  eighteen  mouths." 

"  He  is  abroad  still.  I  suppose,  of  course,  you  knew 
of  his  marriage  ?  " 

With  a  convulsive  sob  she  tried  to  say  "  No  ;  "  but 
from  her  white  lips  no  sound  could  be  distinguished. 
She  gazed  at  her  companion  with  such  an  expression 
of  agony  that  he  realized  he  had  made  a  mistake  in 
imparting  the  news  too  suddenly ;  though  why  she 
should  be  thus  overcome  in  hearing  of  the  marriage  of 
her  brother,  he  could  not  even  conjecture.  After  an 
awkward  pause,  he  added,  — 

"It  may,  after  all,  be  only  rumor.  A  college  friend 
met  him  abroad,  travelling  with  a  party  of  our  coun 
trymen.  I  think  he  said  that  it  was  one  of  the  latest 
on-dits  in  Paris  that  Mr.  Everett  was  engaged  to  his 
cousin.  Afterwards  I  heard  the  rumor  of  his  mar 
riage." 

Poor  Juliette  !  and  this  was  to  be  the  end  of  all  her 
hopes.  Vague  and  faint  as  they  had  been,  in  that  one 


JULIETTE.  335 

moment  that  they  were  rudely  torn  away  she  realized 
how  much  they  had  comforted  and  sustained  her.  A 
sickening  faintness  made  her  shudder.  She  reached 
out  her  -hand  to  grasp  something  for  support ;  a  dark 
ness  obscured  her  vision.  Her  companion,  hearing  a 
low  groan,  turned  quickly  to  see  her  fall  back  insen 
sible. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  stop  the  horse, 
and  loosen  the  strings  of  her  bonnet,  which  he  did  with 
a  consciousness  of  having  committed  some  terrible 
mistake.  "  What  ?  "  he  asked  himself  again  and  again, 
"what  can  it  be?" 

With  the  poor  girl,  it  was  but  a  momentary  suspen 
sion  of  consciousness.  With  a  deep  sigh  she  revived  ; 
but  there  rushed  over  her  such  an  overwhelming  tide 
of  emotion,  that  she  trembled  like  a  reed  shaken  with 
the  wind.  In  vain  she  endeavored  to  recover  her  com 
posure  ;  the  dagger  had  sunk  into  her  heart.  "  He 
never  loved  me,"  was  the  conviction  she  could  neither 
resist  nor  shake  off. 

Mr.  Ashley  had  never  found  himself  in  a  more  em 
barrassing  position,  and  was  delighted,  when,  at  length 
a  flow  of  tears  gave  vent  to  her  too  evident  distress. 
For  a  time  he  allowed  her  to  weep  without  striving 
to  check  her ;  but  presently  began  to  suggest  such 
thoughts  as  might  strengthen  her  faith  in  her  heavenly 
Father;  and  before  the  ride  was  ended,  she  became 
sufficiently  composed  to  relate  many  incidents  in  her 
eventful  life,  already  known  to  the  reader. 

"lam  afraid  I  have  done  you  no  good,  though  I 


336  JULIETTE. 

hoped  to,"  said  he,  gazing  with  keen  regret  into  her 
pallid  face,  on  which  an  expression  of  patient  suffering 
was  already  stamped.  "Be  assured  you  have  my 
warmest  sympathies.  In  regard  to  your  brother,  I  shall 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  learn  the  truth  of  the 
rumor  which  has  so  distressed  you." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  but  made  no  reply. 

"May  I  ask,  is  your  friend,  Miss  Agnes,  acquainted 
with  your  real  position  in  society  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"May  I  tell  her?" 

"If  you  think  it  best ;  but  it  will  do  no  good." 

This  was  said  in  such  a  heart-broken  tone,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  turn  from  her  to  conceal  a  sympathizing 
tear. 

On  reaching  the  farm,  Mr.  Ashley  called  Willie, 
and  gave  him  permission  to  unharness  the  horse  ;  then 
assisting  Juliette  from  the  carriage,  he  was  obliged  to 
put  his  arm  around  her  to  support  her  from  falling. 

Agnes  and  her  mother  ran  to  the  door,  —  all  the  re 
serve  of  the  haughty  girl  vanishing  at  sight  of  her 
friend's  distress.  "Are  you  ill  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 
she  inquired,  darting  a  quick,  indignant  glance  at  the 
gentleman. 

"I  will  explain  presently.  Mrs.  Barnard,  will  you 
assist  Miss  Juliette  to  retire?  The  ride  was  too  much 
for  her,  and  probably  she  will  wish  time  to  compose 
herself.  I  will  send  up  some  quieting  drops  presently." 

"No;  I'll  go,  mother,"  urged  Agnes.  "I'd  rather 
go  with  her." 


JULIETTE.  337 

"Your  mother  will  do  better  now,  Miss  Agnes.  If 
you  will  sit  down  a  minute,  till  I  procure  the  drops,  I 
luive  some  explanations  to  make  to  you."  This  was 
said  gravely,  and  in  a  tone  of  authority,  as  if  he  ex 
pected  his  wishes  to  be  complied  with. 

Agnes  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  seated  herself, 
while  he  procured  a  small  vial  from  the  closet,  poured 
a  teaspoon  half  full  of  drops,  and  brought  a  glass  of 
fresh  water  from  the  kitchen. 

w  May  I  take  them  up  ?  "  she  asked  humbly.  "  I 
will  return  immediately." 

He  gave  them  into  her  hand  without  speaking. 

"  Miss  Agnes,"  he  began  on  her  return,  drawing  a 
chair  near  her  side,  but  at  once  leaving  it  to  pace  the 
floor,  "you  noticed  my  surprise  at  meeting  your 
friend,  and  probably  inferred  we  had  met  before. 
This  was  true.  I  met  her  under  widely  different  cir 
cumstances,  and  my  astonishment,  for  a  moment,  was 
great.  You  noticed,  too,  that  I  did  not  address  her 
as  Miss  Edwards.  I  did  not  choose  to  do  so,  until  I 
knew  why  she  had  dropped  her  real  name. 

"  The  only  daughter  of  a  New  York  banker  of  im 
mense  wealth,  highly  accomplished,  and  thoroughly 
educated,  —  heiress  in  her  own  right  to  a  large  fortune, 
—  idolized  by  those  who  knew  her ;  is  it  strange  I 
wondered  at  finding  her  here,  knowing  her  life  for 
months  had  been  passed  in  a  factoiy  ? 

"  You  were  surprised,  no  doubt,  that  I  paid  her  the 
courtesy  to  offer  her  my  room ;  but  I  did  so,  apprised 

29 


338  JULIETTE. 

of  her  high  social  position,  and  recollecting  the  many 
favors  I  had  received  from  her  friends." 

The  quickly  changing  color  of  the  young  lady  ad 
dressed  proved  her  deep  interest  in  this  tale.  And 
there  were  other  feelings  produced  by  it  which  caused 
her  the  keenest  mortification.  With  a  blush  that 
mounted  to  her  temples,  she  sprang  forward,  extend 
ing  her  hand,  as  she  exclaimed,  "Mr.  Ashley,  I  have 
been -suspicious  and  unjust  to  you.  I  am  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  myself.  I  scarcely  dare  ask  you  to  forgive 
me." 

He  took  her  offered  hand,  clasped  it  in  both  his, 
as  he  gazed  earnestly  into  her  blushing  face.  "Are  you 
aware,"  he  asked,  with  his  peculiar  smile,  "  that  you 
have  scarcely  looked  at  me  since  your  return?  Have 
I  not  something  to  forgive  there,  too?  I'm  afraid 
you  have  not  told  the  half  of  your  offences  against  me, 
—  the  unkind  thoughts,  the  proud  determination  to 
show  me  you  could  be  as  coolly  indifferent  as  you 
deemed  me.  Foolish  girl !  how  little  you  understand 
niy  heart. " 

"  I  did  not  consider  it  necessary  or  proper  to  confess 
my  sins  in  detail,"  murmured  Agues,  becoming  pain 
fully  confused,  and  struggling  to  release  her  hand. 
"I  am  sufficiently  conscious  that,  from  some  cause,  I 
have  forfeited  your  esteem,  and  only  make  the  ac 
knowledgment  because  it  was  due  to  myself.  You 
have  not  yet  said  you  would  overlook  it." 

"No,  because  I  have  some  acknowledgments  to 
make  myself ;  of  affections  and  hopes  cherished  for 


JULIETTE.  339 

three  weary  years ;  affections  I  for  a  long  time 
strove  to  uproot,  because  the  one  I  loved  was,  at 
best,  an  unbeliever  in  the  doctrines  of  the  cross ; 
affections  which,  now  that  objection  is  overruled  by 
the  abounding  grace  of  God,  may  never  be  recipro 
cated.  Oh,  yes,  Agnes !  There  is  much  I  have  to 
confess.  If  I  forgive  you,  will  you  promise  to  be 
merciful  also?" 

Her  answer  was  so  low  it  was  unintelligible ;  but 
the  gentleman  argued  well  that  she  allowed  her  hand 
to  rest  passively  in  his  ;  and  when,  at  a  call  from  the 
stairs,  she  said,  softly,  "I  must  go  now,"  he  felt  so 
sure  of  a  favorable  verdict,  that  he  ventured  to  raise 
the  delicate  member  tenderly  to  his  lips. 

One  quick  glance  into  his  earnest  eyes,  and  she 
flew  from  the  room  to  the  bedside  of  her  friend ; 
trying  to  quell  the  tumult  of  joy  in  her  heart,  to  min 
ister  to  one  so  dearly  loved.  At  any  time,  the  story 
of  .Juliette's  early  history  would  have  been  deeply 
exciting,  proving  as  it  did,  the  truth  of  her  own  vague 
suspicions ;  but  now,  as  she  bent  tenderly  over  her, 
watched  the  spasmodic  movement  of  the  closed  eye 
lids,  and  listened  to  the  deep,  heavy  sighs  that  almost 
convulsed  the  breast  of  the  sufferer,  she  realized 
through  what  fearful  trials  the  poor  girl  must  have 
passed.  Not  yet  aware  that  it  was  love  to  her  Saviour 
which  had  prompted  the  sacrifice  of  all  that  was  gen 
erally  esteemed  among  men,  she  began  to  form  con 
jectures  as  to  what  could  have  produced  so  unhappy 
a  result. 


340  JULIETTE. 

The  supper-bell  found  her  still  with  her  cool  hand 
bathing  the  brow  of  her  distressed  friend,  and,  hearing 
her  father's  voice  below,  she  said,  softly,  "I  will  bring 
you  a  cup  of  tea.  No,  dear,  don't  try  to  rise ;  lie 
quietly  till  I  come.  Oh,  how  your  temples  throb  !  " 

Mr.  Ashley  was  quite  concerned  that  Miss  Juliette 
remained  so  ill,  and  said  very  gravely,  "I  am  heartily 
sorry  I  persuaded  her  to  ride  out." 

With  a  crisp  slice  of  toast,  Agnes  returned  to  her 
friend,  while  Caleb,  who  had  been  absent  with  his 
father,  since  dinner,  requested  an  explanation  of  what 
had  passed. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Ashley,  as  usual,  passed  in 
his  study  ;  but  when  Juliette,  having  sought  and  found 
comparative  tranquillity  at  the  throne  of  grace,  appeared 
at  the  dinner-table,  she  heard  him  giving  -directions  at 
the  door  for  letters  of  importance  to  be  sent  to  the  post. 

Making  a  great  effort  to  appear  cheerful  and  inter 
ested  in  what  was  passing,  she  could  but  notice  a 
change  in  the  manners  of  Agnes  toward  her  clerical 
friend.  She  talked  no  more  than  before,  but  there 
was  a  winning  softness  in  her  voice,  a  subdued  timidity 
in  the  quick  casting  down  of  her  eyes,  that  well 
became  her. 

Her  brother  Caleb,  who  had  been  indignant  at  her 
treatment  the  night  before,  watched  and  wondered 
too. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Ashley  brought  an  interesting 
biography  and  read  aloud  to  the  young  ladies  as  they 
sat  sewing ;  but  toward  night,  while  hearing  his*  favorite 


JULIETTE.  341 

"Willie  recite  a  Latin  lesson,  he  was  summoned  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  town  to  visit  a  sick  woman. 

"If  it  were  not  for  leaving  Miss  Juliette  alone,"  he 
said  (turning,  to  Agnes) ,  "  I  would  solicit  your  com 
pany.  It  would  do  you  good  to  review  your  Latin, 
and  I  could  hear  you  on  the  way/' 

A  peculiarly  arch  smile  stole  over  his  face  as  the 
young  lady  rose  in  great  confusion,  to  conceal  her 
blushes,  declaring  she  could  not  think  of  leaving  her 
eick  friend. 

Juliette,  however,  would  not  consent  to  detain  her, 
and  they  finally  drove  away. 

Agnes,  who  had  always  been  pleased  that  she  was 
able  to  retain  her  self-possession,  was  vexed  that  the 
color  would  rush  into  her  face,  and  that  she  could 
scarcely  control  her  voice  to  utter  a  sentence.  She 
was  afyaid  her  companion  would  perceive  the  violent 
beating  of  her  heart ;  and  was  immensely  relieved 
when  he  began  to  talk  upon  the  most  indifferent  sub 
jects.  When  she  had  had  time  to  compose  herself,  he 
referred  to  Juliette,  and  gave  in  detail  the  account  he 
had  received  from  her  lips. 

"Dear  girl,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  "how  nobly  has  she 
endured  all  these  trials  !  I  feel  terribly  condemned 
when  I  remember  that  I  have  sometimes  thought  her 
wanting  in  courage  and  resolution  ;  but  I  see  she  has 
triumphed  where  I  should  have  fallen  in  the  way." 

tf  We  can  seldom  be  assured  how  we  should  comport 
ourselves  under  prospective  "  trials,"  remarked  Mr. 
Ashley.  "  I  have  no  floubt,  however,  that  it  would  bo 

29* 


342  JULIETTE. 

more  tiying  to  you,  constituted  as  3rou  are,  to  wait 
patiently  the  developments  of  God's  providence,  than 
to  her.  You  could  scarcely  feel,  I  fear,  that,  — 

"  '  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait.' 

"But  I  have  strong  hope  in  her  case.  She  tells  me 
her  father  and  one  brother  went  instantly  abroad ; 
probably  before  his  wrath  had  time  to  cool.  The 
other  brother,  whom  I  well  knew,  being  his  senior  in 
college,  had  left  a  month  or  two  previous.  I  have 
already  written  to  a  mutual  friend,  to  obtain  his 
address,  and  shall  write  at  once,  detailing  with  perfect 
frankness  in  what  circumstances  I  have  found  his 
sister.  He  is  a  noble  fellow ;  and  she  assures  me  he 
became  an  experimental  Christian  before  he  left  the 
country." 

"  Thank  you  !  "  responded  Agnes,  warmly,  ."  thank 
you  for  this  interest  in  my  friend.  She  has  been  a 
blessing  indeed  to  me." 

"And  through  you  to  me  also,"  returned  the  young 
pastor,  deeply  moved.  "  Can  you  think  I  have  not 
often  blessed  God  for  her  prayers  and  labors  for  one 
whose  future  character  was  to  exert  such  an  influence 
on  me  and  on  my  people?  O  Agnes,  my  faith  has 
sometimes  wavered,  as  month  after  month  fled  by,  and 
still  yon  remained  careless  and  thoughtless  of  the  con 
cerns  of  your  immortal  soul !  Yet  I  prayed  and  waited, 
knowing  God  would  answer  in  his  own  good  time. 
When  Clara  died,  I  felt  that  her  loss  must  be  the 
means  of  arousing  you ;  but  we  see  he  works  accord- 


JULIETTE.  343 

ins;  to  the  counsel  of  his  own  will.     The  sad  tidings 

O  O 

had  not  reached  you  when  the  letter  came  announcing 
the  glorious  news  of  your  hopeful  conversion. 

"  I  read  that  letter  on  my  knees,  thanking  God  that 
he  had  listened  to  my  humble  cry.  With,  perhaps, 
too  great  confidence,  I  looked  forward  to  a  return  of 
my  affection,  now  that  I  could  implore  the  blessing  of 
God  on  our  union.  Shall  I  go  on,  dear  Agnes?"  he 
added,  catching  a  glimpse  of  her  glistening  eyes, 
"  Shall  I  venture  to  interpret  your  conduct  on  the  night 
of  your  return,  after  I  had  taken  a  hurried  walk  to 
meet  you?  Your  first,  blushing,  friendly  glance, 
expressed  this,  'You  have  been  a  good  friend  to  the 
family,  and  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you.'  But  before 
we  arose  from  table,  the  conversation,  carried  on  with 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  great  an  effort  on  my  part, 
received  no  aid  from  you,  while  your  manners  grew 
every  moment  more  constrained.  I  was  not  wholly  dis 
couraged,  however,  because  I  perceived  that  you  had 
noticed  my  start  of  surprise  on  meeting  Miss  Juliette, 
and  I  thought  it  augured  well  for  me  that  —  " 

"  Oh,  don't ;  don't !  Don't  expose  me  any  more," 
cried  the  blushing  girl ;  "  I'm  mortified  enough  already. 
I  will  make  any  acknowledgment  you  wish,  if  you'll 
forget  all  my  foolish  conduct  since  I  came  home." 

"  Even  to  the  present  indicative  of  the  verb  amo  9  " 
urged  the  gentleman,  archly  glancing  into  her  down 
cast  eyes. 

"  Yes,  sir,  even  that,  if  nothing  else  will  satisfy  you ; " 


344  JULIETTE. 

and  Agnes,  after  one  quick,  searching  glance  into  his 
face,  frankly  put  her  hand  in  his. 

w  Now  AND  FOREVER,"  he  said,  in  a  solemn  tone, 
and,  clasping  it  to  his  heart,  'Now  know  I  that  I  have 
obtained  favor  of  the  Lord,  because  he  has  heard  my 
prayer.' " 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 

"  I  cannot  speak,  tears  so  obstruct  my  words 
And  choke  me  with  unutterable  joy." 

LEAVING  our  heroine  slowly  recovering  from  the 
effects  of  her  ride  with  the  clergyman,  let  us 
turn  for  a  while  to  our  Stamford  friends. 

On  the  same  day  that  Juliette,  in  company  with  her 
room-mate  left  Lowell  for  "W ,  Mr.  Allen,  happen 
ing  to  be  glancing  over  a  late  issue  from  the  New 
York  press,  was  a  good  deal  excited  by  the  following 
brief  passage,  — 

"Among  the  arrivals  by  the  last  steamer,  we  are 
happy  to  announce  that  of  Edward  Fearing,  Esq.,  his 
son,  and  Mr.  Everett,  a  promising  young  member  of 
the  bar.  We  are  sorry  to  learn,  however,  that  Mr. 
Fearing,  having  left  the  country  in  search  of  health, 
has  not  obtained  the  benefit  from  his  foreign  travels 
which  was  to  be  desired." 

An  hour  later  the  kind  pastor  knocked  at  the  farm 
house  door.  Having  inquired  how  lately,  they  had 
heard  from  Juliette,  he  proceeded,  in  the  presence  of 
the  family,  to  relate  the  fact  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  a  New  York  banker,  and  then  read  to  the  aston 
ished  group  the  paragraph  above  named. 

345 


346  JULIETTE. 

James  sprang  to  his  feet  in  open-mouthed  wonder ; 
while  Susan  laughed  and  cried,  declared  she  was  glad 
and  she  was  sorry,  all  in  a  breath. 

Mrs.  Smith  fully  agreed  with  Mr.  Allen  that  the 
young  lady  ought  to  be  informed  of  this  intelligence, 
and  Susan  gladly  consented  to  write.  Cutting  the  small 
but  important  item  from  the  paper,  she  enfolded  it  in 
her  letter,  and  directed  it  as  usual  to  Lowell ;  but 
Mrs.  Palmer,  having  received  no  orders  to  forward 
letters,  laid  it  carefully  away  to  await  her  boarder's 
return. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Smith  was  surprised 
to  see  James  preparing  for  a  journey.  At  last,  attired 
in  his  Sunday  suit,  looking  brighter  and  handsomer, 
as  his  sister  said,  than  she  had  ever  seen  him,  he  an 
nounced  his  intention  of  going  in  the  first  train  of  cars 
to  New  York. 

Susan  accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  depot  to  drive 
back  the  horse,  and,  also,  to  communicate  the  intelli 
gence  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Dudley  Houghton,  whose 
marriage  had  taken  place  in  June. 

It  was  a  noble  impulse  which  prompted  the  young 
farmer  to  visit  Mr.  Fearing  and  plead  with  him  in  his 
daughter's  behalf.  During  the  ride  of  two  hours  in 
the  cars  he  had  time  to  reflect  upon  the  probable  char 
acter  of  a  man  who  would  be  guilty  of  turning  a  child 
from  his  door.  Wholly  unconscious  of  the  frantic 
efforts  of  the  father  to  find  any  trace  of  his  lost 
Juliette,  he  supposed  Mr.  Fearing  either  aware  of, 
or  indifferent  to,  her  present  abode,  and  intended  to 


JULIETTE.  347 

base  his  plea  upon  the  fact  of  her  absorbing  grief  at 
the  unnatural  separation. 

Having  readily  obtained  the  direction  to  the  street 
and  number,  our  friend  James  walked  leisurely  back 
and  forth  in  front  of  the  imposing  mansion  ;  a  feeling 
of  self-degradation  stealing  over  him  as  he  realized 
that  he  had  tried  to  woo  the  heiress  of  all  this 
grandeur;  and,  when  at  last  he  slowly  ascended  the 
steps,  it  was  with  the  feeling  of  a  man  who  was  about 
to  beard  the  lion  in  his  den. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  fear  for  himself  quick 
ened  one  pulse  of  the  warm-hearted  yeoman.  No, 
the  fear  of  man  was  not  in  his  category ;  it  was  the 
thought  that  he  might,  in  his  ignorance  of  the  ways 
of  the  world,  do  something  injurious  to  the  inter 
ests  of  her  he  still  loved. 

In  answer  to  his  loud,  and,  it  must  be  confessed, 
plebeian  ring,  our  old  friend  Rufus  instantly  showed 
his  smiling  face  at  the  door. 

"  Is  Mr.  Fearing  at  home  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  massa  !  " 

"I  should  like  to  see  him,  on  private  business." 

Rufus  was  puzzled,  and  scratched  his  woolly  head 
to  wake  up  his  ideas.  The  fact  was,  Mr.  Fearing, 
being  an  invalid,  had  denied  himself  to  all  visitors ; 
but  this,  as  he  said  afterwards,  struck  him  "as  a 
new  kind  of  chap."  He  was  sure  there  was  something 
"oncommon,"  about  him. 

James  quietly  waited  until  the  servant  had  scanned 


348  JULIETTE. 

him  from  head  to  foot,  and  then  repeated  his  wish  to 
see  the  gentleman. 

"Massa   Fearing   is   sick,"  said   Kufus,    at   length, 
"and  he  isn't  at  home  to  anybody  in  these  days." 
"But  you  said  just  now  he  was  at  home." 
"  Oh,    law,    massa !     I    mean    he    don't   see    any 
body.     He   stays  in  his  chamber  from  morning  till 
night." 

a 

Two  gentlemen  at  this  moment  came  to  the  door, 
talking  earnestly,  but  stopped  as  they  saw  the  young 
man. 

"  I  have  come  some  distance  to  see  Mr.  Fearing,  on 
business,"  said  James,  addressing  the  elder  one  ;  "  but 
his  servant  tells  me  he  is  too  sick  to  see  me." 

"  Walk  in,  sir  ;  walk  in  !  "  exclaimed  the  younger 
man,  whom  we  should  scarcely  recognize  as  Henry. 

"Rufus,  you  old  scoundrel,  don't  you  know  enough 
to  ask  a  gentleman  to  walk  in  ?  " 

This  was  aside ;  and  the  servant  answered  with  a 
grin,— 

"I  was  only  waiting,  massa." 

James  followed  the  older  one,  who  was  Mr.  Everett, 
to  the  parlor,  almost  bewildered  at  the  magnificence  by 
which  he  was  surrounded. 

"Is  your  business  important?"  inquired  the  gentle 
man,  politely. 

"I'll  have  the  horses  round  in  a  few  minutes,"  ex 
claimed  Henry,  suddenly  throwing  open  the  door. 

"  Very  well ;  "  and  Mr.  Everett  turned  again  to  the 
stranger. 


JULIETTE.  349 

"  I  consider  it  of  much  importance ;  but  it  is  of  a 
private  nature.  I  mean  it  is  not  pecuniary." 

"Perhaps,"  returned  Horace,  with  a  smile,  "you 
can  transact  it  with  me,  as  my  father  is  ill." 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  in  that  case,"  and  James  glanced 
with  new  interest  at  the  stranger  as  the  brother  of 
Juliette. 

"  I  came  from  Stamford,"  said  he,  frankly,  "to  plead 
with  Mr.  Fearing  to  be  reconciled  to  his  daughter." 

"  His  daughter  !  —  reconciled  !  Is  Juliette  liv- 
ing?" 

Horace  sprang  forward,  but  immediately  sank  back 
in  his  chair,  pale  and  trembling  with  agitation.  By 
a  powerful  effort,  recovering  himself,  he  exclaimed,  in 
a  broken  voice,  — 

"Mr.  Fearing  would  give  all  he  is  worth  in  the 
world  so  have  her  restored  to  him." 

It  was  now  James's  turn  to  be  surprised. 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,"  he  urged,  growing 
very  red  in  -the  face.  "  I  understood  —  " 

"But  where  is  she  now?"  cried  Horace,  impatiently 
interrupting  him. 

"  She  is  in  Lowell,  where,  for  a  year,  she  has  been 
working  in  a  factory." 

"Gracious  heaven  !  "  exclaimed  the  gentleman,  cov 
ering  his  face  with  his  hands.  "O  Juliette  !  Juliette!" 

"  She  was  a  member  of  my  father's  family  for 
mouths,"  added  the  young  man,  seeing  the  other  was 
too  much  agitated  to  speak.  "  We  used  every  induce 
ment  to  keep  her  there,  for  my  sisters  dearly  loved 

30 


350  JULIETTE. 

her ;  but  she  chose  to  be  independent,  and  left  soon 
after  she  had  recovered  from  a  dangerous  illness." 

Horace  groaned  aloud ;  but  suddenly  starting  from 
his  seat,  said,  — 

"  Remain  here.  I  must  go  and  prepare  her  father 
to  see  you." 

James  cast  his  eyes  around  the  spacious  apartment, 
and  sighed  as  he  said  to  himself,  "  And  I  asked  her  to 
share  my  humble  home."  Presently  he  heard  a  loud 
scream  for  help,  hurried  sounds  in  the  hall,  quick  steps 
up  and  down  the  stairs,  then  a  servant  ran  in,  breath 
less  with  terror,  to  say  that  Mr.  Fearing  was  in  a  fit, 
and  that  Mr.  Horace  begged  he  would  not  leave  the 
house. 

Horace  himself  soon  ran  in,  pale  and  agitated,  to  state 
that  the  intelligence  from  his  daughter  had  so  affected 
Mr.  Fearing  that  he  was  in  a  most  dangerous  condi 
tion  ;  but  begged  as  a  favor  that  the  young  man  would 
remain  for  the  present. 

"Perhaps,"  said  James,  "I  can  be  of  service.  I 
am  somewhat  used  to  sickness ;"  and,  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  occasion,  he  at  once  threw  off  all  the  re 
straint  which  intercourse  with  strangers  had  caused,  and 
showed  himself,  as  he  was,  a  warm-hearted,  sympa 
thizing,  Christian  man. 

Following  Horace  to  the  chamber,  he  beheld  an 
elderly  gentleman  struggling  convulsively  in  the  arms 
of  a  servant,  his  eyes  rolling  wildly  and  his  face  of  a 
ghastly  pallor.  Male  and  female  attendants  were 


JULIETTE.  351 

running  around  the  room,  or  wringing  their  hands,  or 
uttering  shrill  screams  of  terror. 

Ordering  these  from  the  chamber,  Horace  inquired 
•whether  Peter,  who  had  been  scut  for  the  doctor,  had 
returned  ;  while  James  advanced  to  the  relief  of  Ruftis, 
suggesting  that,  unless  a  physician-  soon  arrived,  Mr. 
Fearing  ought  to  be  placed  in  a  warm  bath. 

Horace  caught  at  the  idea,  and,  without  a  moment's 
delay,  by  the  efficient  aid  of  the  young  farmer,  the 
convulsed  form  was  presently  borne  to  an  adjoining 
room,  where  a  bath  was  prepared. 

The  happy  results  of  this  treatment  became  evident 
from  the  relaxing  of  the  different  limbs ;  so  that  when 

Dr.  M reached  his  patient  the  worst  symptoms 

had  already  abated. 

Leaving  James,  at  his  own  request,  with  the  servant 
to  envelop  the  cold  limbs  with  warm  flannels,  Horace 
retired  to  Juliette's  boudoir  to  state  briefly  to  Dr. 
M ,  the  cause  of  this  sudden  attack. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  Henry  drove  to  the 
door  with  a  span  of  noble  grays,  and  rang  loudly  for 
Horace  to  join  him. 

He  was  much  excited  by  the  intelligence  from  Juli 
ette,  and  proposed  to  start  in  the  next  train  for  Low 
ell ;  but  his  brother  said,  firmly,  "That  must  be  my 
privilege ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  father's  state  needs 
your  constant  attention." 

In  company  with  the  physician,  they  re-entered  Mr. 
Fearing's  room,  where  James  still  lingered.  The  sick 
man  was  now  restored  to  consciousness,  but  feeble  and 


352  JULIETTE. 

helpless  as  a  babe.  His  eye  wandered  wistfully  from 
one  to  another,  as  they  stood  around  his  bed,  but  ever 
turned  to  the  frank,  open  countenance  of  the  young 
farmer,  as  if  in  some  way  he  connected  him  with  his 
daughter. 

He  motioned  feebly  for  Horace  to  come  nearer,  and 
said,  in  a  low,  shaking  voice,  "  Leave  the  gentleman 
with  me  —  while  you  go  for  —  Juliette.  Tell  her  — • " 

The  features  of  his  face  began  to-be  convulsed  again, 
and  Horace,  at  a  sign  from  the  doctor,  said,  "Yes, 
father ;  I  know  all  you  wish  to  say.  I'll  tell  her  your 
arms  and  your  heart  are  open  to  receive  her." 

"  Tell  her,"  gasped  the  poor  man,  with  a  look  of 
agony,  "  to  —  for  —  give  —  all  —  " 

At  these  humble  words,  forced  from  the  lips  of  the 
once  proud,  haughty  man,  those  standing  around  the  bed 
were  deeply  moved.  Horace  withdrew  with  James  to 
the  further  end  of  the  apartment,  followed  by  the  anx 
ious  glance  of  the  sufferer. 

"  You  see  how  he  is,"  he  said,  grasping  the  stranger 
by  the  hand.  "For  the  sake  of  your  sister's  friend, 
will  you  remain  with  him  till  I  return?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  James,  with  a  quivering  lip,  "for 
her  sake  I  will. do  anything  but  violate  my  con 
science." 

Here  was  a  new  tie  between  them,  and  the  young 
men  clasped  each  other  by  the  hand. 

"  As  he  is  able  to  bear  it,  soothe  him  with  an  account 
of  her  love  ;  I  am  sure  she  love's  him,"  with  a  quick, 
inquiring  glance  into  his  companion's  face. 


JULIETTE.  353 

"  As  if  nothing  had  occurred." 

"Tell  him  so,"  continued  the  other,  much  affected; 
"  tell  him  of  her  life  in  the  country  ;  but  don't,  for  the 
world,  hint  where  she  is  now  ;  it  might  kill  him.  He 
has  sinned  ;  but  he  has  suffered.  Let  us  hope  God 
will  deal  with  him  in  mercy." 

Then  making  minute  inquiries  concerning  her  resi 
dence  in  Lowell,  etc.,  etc.,  and  saying  he  thou  lit 
they  might  be  back  in  three  days  at  farthest,  they 
returned  to  the  bed. 

"I  am  going  now,  father;  but  Mr.  Smith  has  con 
sented  to  remain  till  I  return,  which  will  be  at  the  first 
moment  I  am  able.  He  will  tell  you  all  you  wish  to 
know." 

He  turned  to  leave ;  but,  with  sudden  strength,  Mr. 
Fearing  grasped  his  hand,  and,  pulling  him  down  to 
the  bed,  whispered,  "Tell  her  —  I'm  willing — now." 

Not  daring  to  trust  his  voice,  the  young  lawyer 
bowed  his  assent,  and  hastily  left  the  room. 

Henry  followed  him  to  his  chamber,  where  Horace 
made  hurried  preparations  for  his  absence,  receiving, 
at  the  same  time,  directions  as  to  arrangements  to  be 
made  for  his  sister.  The  boudoir  must  be  restored  to 
the  state  it  was  when  she  left ;  and,  if  possible,  Eliza, 
her  waiting-maid,  must  be  found  and  reinstalled  in  her 
place.  He  also  reminded  Henry  that  great  pains  must 
be  taken  to  soothe  and  quiet  their  father,  especially  if 
any  unforeseen  event  should  occur  to  delay  his  return. 

"  This  young  Smith  is  a  real  Godsend  ! "  exclaimed 

30* 


354  JULIETTE. 

Henry.     "I  can  see  -he  will  be  the  one  to  manage 
father." 

"  Yes ;  I  could  scarcely  have  gone  yet  without  his 
aid.  Did  you  see  how  father  grasped  his  hand  when  I 
left?" 


CHAPTER  XXXTTT. 

"  But  while  hope  lives, 
Let  not  the  generous  die.    'Tis  late  before 
The  brave  despair." 

MOST  unfortunately,  in  the  hurry  and  excitement 
of  the  sick-room,  James  forgot  to  mention  that 
Juliette  had  always  been  known  as  Miss  Edwards ;  so 
that  when  Mr.  Everett,  having  lost  not  a  moment  in 
unnecessary  delay,  reached  Lowell  at  an  early  hour  the 
morning  after  he  left  home,  hastened  to  inquire  for 
Miss  Fearing  at  Mrs.  Palmer's,  he  was  assured  no 
such  person  resided  there. 

Disappointed  more  than  he  could  express,  he  re 
quested  the  servant  to  inform  her  mistress  that  a  gentle 
man  wished  to  see  her  on  business. 

"  Mrs.  Palmer  is  sick,"  she  replied ;  "  her  daughter 
and  the  other  boarders  are  in  the  factory." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  catching  eagerly  at  the  idea 
of  finding  her  there ;  and,  learning  the  name  of  the 
Corporation  who  employed  them,  he  proceeded  with  a 
wildly  beating  heart  to  obtain  the  address  of  the  agent, 
and  get  a  permit  to  go  in  and  begin  his  search. 

Mr.  Proctor  readily  granted  him  every  help  that  was 
possible,  but  assured  the  gentleman  that  he  had  norec- 

355 


356  JULIETTE. 

ollection  of  any  weaver  by  the  name  of  Fearing.  A 
ticket  of  admittance  gave  him  access  to  every  part  of 
the  buildings,  and  a  written  request  to  the  overseer 
obtained  for  him  the  assistance  of  that  gentleman. 

"Fearing, — Fletcher, — "  repeated  the  man,  half- 
aloud.  "You  are  sure  it's  not  Fletcher?" 

"No  ;  I'm  sure  it's  Fearing,"  replied  Horace,  trying 
to  conceal  his  impatience. 

"No  such  person  employed  in  this  factory,"  said  the 
man,  decidedly;  "however,  I  will  walk  with  you 
through  the  rooms,  that  you  may  see  for  yourself." 

Mr.  Everett  rea'dily  agreed  to  this  proposition,  and 
leisurely  walked  back  and  forth  through  the  aisles, 
casting  a  quick  glance  at  each  operative,  his  talkative 
guide  little  imagining  the  mingled  feelings  of  disap 
pointment  and  relief  in  not  finding  her  he  sought. 

At  length,  with  many  thanks  for  the  politeness  of 
the  overseer,  he  left  the  factory  and  turned  his  steps 
wearily  back  to  the  hotel. 

While  eating  his  hurried  meal  (he  had  not  break 
fasted  before),  the  thought  occurred  to  him,  that  as 
Mr.  Smith  had  happened  to  mention  that  Juliette  was 
a  Sabbath-school  teacher,  he  might  here  learn  some 
thing  of  her.  "But  which  church  did  she  attend?" 
In  the  midst  of  such  a  city  it  would  be  an  endless  task 
to  find  a  Sabbath-school  teacher  by  a  given  name. 

"O  Juliette!  my  poor,  persecuted  Juliette!"  he 
groaned,  in  agony ;  "  shall  I  ever  find  you  ?  and 
how?" 

It  had  been  his  intention  to  give  no  publicity  to  his 


JULIETTE.  357 

search ;  but  now  he  was  glad  to  avail  himself  of  the 
efficient  aid  of  the  police.  With  a  full  description  of 
Juliette  as  he  last  saw  her  (alas  !  with  what  a  heavy 
heart  he  realized  that  she  might  be  sadly  changed  now  !) , 
and  the  exhibition  of  a  tiny  miniature  he  always  wore 
next  his  heart,  he  employed  them  to  visit  every  fac 
tory,  clergyman,  and  Sabbath-school  superintendent, 
reporting  their  progress  to  him  at  the  hotel  every  two 
or  three  hours. 

In  this  manner  the  weary,  tedious  moments  crept 
by,  until  at  a  late  hour  Horace,  with  a  heavy  heart, 
retired  to  his  chamber  for  the  night.  His  first  busi 
ness  was  to  write  to  Henry  for  more  specific  directions 
from  Mr.  Smith,  directing  them  to  be  telegraphed  to 
him  at  once,  stating  in  cautious  terms  his  entire  want 
of  success'in  the  search. 

Then  he  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands  and  gave  him 
self  up  to  his  grief.  How  differently  he  had  hoped  to 
pass  this  evening !  How  ardently  he  had  longed  to 
fold  his  sister  to  his  heart,  and  tell  her  that  amidst  all  the 
scenes  he  had  passed  through  in  foreign  lands,  he  had 
ever  been  faithful  to  her  memory,  though  he  supposed 
her  soul  had  ascended  to  God  !  Had  she  been  constant 
also? 

How  keenly  now  he  blamed  himself  -that  he  had  not 
insisted  upon  learning  from  Henry,  as  their  father 
could  not  endure  the  mention  of  her  name,  their 
grounds  for  the  supposition  that  she  was  not  living ; 
that  he  had  not  at  once  returned  to  his  native  laud,  to 


358  JULIETTE. 

convince  the  homeless  wanderer  that  though  all  others 
forsook  her,  he  would  be  brother,  father,  husband  ! 

How  long  he  sat  thus  he  did  not  know.  The  noise 
of  hurried  steps  up  and  down  the  long  flights,  the  echo 
of  loud  voices  in  the  hall,  did  not  rouse  him  from  the 
dreadful  grief  into  which  he  was  plunged.  But  at  last 
the  sound  of  suppressed  voices  outside  his  door  caused 
him  to  spring  forward  and  open  it. 

"A  telegram,  sir,"  said  the  host,  "just  come  to 
hand.  We  were  debating  whether  to  awaken  you 
for  it." 

Horace  eagerly  tore  it  open,  and  read,  "Mr.  Smith 
forgot  to  tell  you  Juliette  has  called  herself  Miss  Ed 
wards.  Inquire  at  Mrs.  Palmer's,  M Street." 

He  hastily  consulted  his  watch,  but  found  it  was  near 
twelve;  and,  having  learned  from  the  landlord  the 
hour  operatives  were  called  to  the  factories,  he  re 
quested  that  all  further  search  might  be  postponed, 
and  threw  himself  upon  the  bed,  where,  in  the  relief 
he  had  experienced,  he  soon  lost  himself  in  a  heavy 
slumber. 

Mrs.  Palmer's  family  were  seated  at  the  breakfast- 
table  when  Hannah,  the  servant,  entered,  saying,  "The 
gentleman  who  was  here  yesterday  has  called  again, 
and  is  waiting  .in  the  parlor  for  Miss  Edwards." 

Miss  Palmer  arose  from  the  table  to  inform  him  that 
she  had  left  for  the  countiy. 

As  may  well  be  supposed,  this  intelligence  was  not  re 
ceived  with  much  calmness.  Mr.  Everett,  having  ascer 
tained  from  the  servant  that  Miss  Edwards  resided  here, 


JULIETTE.  359 

started  forward,  when  the  door  opened,  to  receive  her 
iu  his  arms. 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  for  a  moment  could 
scarcely  attach  any  meaning  to  Miss  Palmer's  words, 
but,  with  an  effort  recovering  himself,  he  received  di 
rections  sufficiently  explicit  to  enable  him  to  find 
W and  Mr.  Barnard's  house. 

He  had  barely  time  to  hasten  back  to  the  hotel, 
deposit  money  with  the  landlord  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  search,  and  drink  a  cup  of  coffee,  before  the 
carriage  he  had  ordered  drove  to  the  door  to  convey 
him  to  the  cars. 

It  was  a  delightful  autumnal  day,  the  air  clear  but 
soft,  the  sky  serene.  The  excited  young  lawyer 
rushed  on  after  the  gigantic  iron  horse  through  one 
village  after  another,  remembering  that  Juliette  had 
passed  over  this  road,  perhaps  occupied  this  very  seat, 
only  a  few  days  earlier  ;  and  his  thoughts  flew  forward 
to  the  moment  of  their  meeting.  As  he  approached 
nearer,  he  could  scarcely  restrain  his  impatience  ;  and 
yet  among  his  friends  Mr.  Everett  was  considered  a 
calm,  quiet,  self-possessed  man. 

But  now  he  was  to  meet  one  who  was  to  him  like  a 
person  raised  from  the  dead.  Indeed,  he  had  so  long 
been  accustomed  to  think  of  her  in  the  presence  and  en 
joyment  of  her  Saviour,  that  it  seemed  at  times  like  a 
•wild  dream  to*be  expecting  to  meet  her  again  on  earth. 

At  last  the  conductor  opened  the  car  door,  and 
screamed  W ,  as  if  he  were  warning  the  passen 
gers  to  escape  for  their  lives.  The  depot  was  sur- 


360  JULIETTE. 

rounded  by  a  few  houses ;  but  this  was  evidently  not 
the  village. 

On  inquiring  for  Mr.  Josiah  Barnard,  Mr.  Everett 
found  his  house  was  several  miles  distant.  There  was 
no  carriage  to  be  hired,  and  the  young  man,  fretting 
with  impatience,  started  to  walk,  when  the  depot- 
master  hailed  a  man  who  was  going  in  the  same  direc 
tion,  and  asked  him  to  take  the  gentleman  along. 

This  was  on  Thursday,  two  days  after  Juliette's  ride 
with  Mr.  Ashley.  Though  by  no  means  restored  to 
her  usual  spirits,  yet  she  had  almost  succeeded  in 
convincing  herself  that  the  report  concerning  Horace 
must  be  a  mere  rumor.  At  any  rate,  she  found  the 
very  idea  of  his  marriage  so  distressing,  that  she  de 
termined  to  regard  it  as  untrue,  until  Mr.  Ashley  had 
received  an  answer  from  his  college  friend. 

On  Thursday  afternoon,  therefore,  she  had  been 
enticed  into  a  walk  around  the  farm,  Mr.  Ashley  and 
Agnes  a  little  in  advance,  while  Caleb  and  Willie  were 
by  her  side.  She  wore  the  straw  hat  which  James 
had  given  her  the  previous  summer,  and  which,  being 
trimmed  with  oak  leaves,  her  companions  pronounced 
very  becoming. 

Caleb  had  just  remarked  that  the  engagement  be 
tween  his  sister  and  their  pastor  had  taken  him  entirely 
by  surprise,  when  Willie  shouted,  "Agnes,  there's 
'Squire  Owen  coming  to  see  you,  I  guess ; "  and  an 
open  wagon  was  seen  driving  slowly  toward  them. 

Agues  turned  her  face  haughtily  in  the  opposite 
direction ;  but  Juliette,  who  was  curious  to  see  one 


JULIETTE.  361 

who  had  been  so  much  smitten  with  her  friend's 
charms,  glanced  back  in  time  to  notice  a  gentleman 
spring  from  the  wagon,  and  rapidly  approach  the 
house. 

As  he  came  nearer,  the  color  suddenly  left  her 
cheeks.  She  stopped,  clasped  her  hands  to  her  heart, 
scarcely  able  to  support  herself;  but  Horace  had 
recognized  her,  and,  with  a  low  cry,  "My  Juliette  at 
last !  "  dashed  forward,  and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Found  at  last,  dear  one  !  "  he  whispered  ;  but  she 
could  not  speak  ;  her  heart  was  too  full.  It  was  with 
difficulty  she  walked  to  the  house.  She  seemed  to 
herself  to  be  flying  through  the  air,  and  had  not  after 
wards  the  most  distant  recollection  of  the  meeting 
between  Mr.  Ashley  and  her  brother,  nor  of  the  intro 
duction  to  their  friends. 

Not  until  she  found  herself  alone  with  him  in  the 
small  parlor,  and  heard  his  voice  of  playful  reproach, 
saying,  "Have  you  no  welcome  for  me,  Juliette? "  did 
the  color  return  to  her  pale  cheeks. 

"I'm  so  afraid  I'm  not  awake,"  said  she,  gazing  at 
him  with  a  bewildered  air,  and  putting  her  hand  to  her 
head.  "IVe  dreamed  of  you  so  many  times;  "she 
sighed,  even  now,  at  the  recollection,  "and  then,  after 
all,  it  was  only  a  dream." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Horace,  trying  to  conceal  how 
much  her  plaintive  voice  had  affected  him,  "  what 
shall  I  do  to  convince  you  I'm  a  true,  living,  loving 
man,  and  no  vision  of  the  night?  " 

"  Tell  me  of  my  father." 

31 


362  JULIETTE. 

And  Horace  did  tell  of  his  suffering  and  sorrow, 
his  remorse  at  his  treatment  of  his  beloved  daughter, 
and  his  message  to  her  "  to  forgive  all." 

Juliette  wept  tears  of  gratitude,  and  was  only 
restrained  from  starting  at  once  to  go  to  him,  on  hear 
ing  of  his  alarming  sickness,  by  the  assurance  that  the 
cars  did  not  leave  for  Boston  until  the  next  day. 

"We  have  never  received  a  letter  from  you,  —  at 
least  I  have  never  heard  of  one,"  answered  Horace, 
when  she  told  him  of  her  last  address  to  her  father 
from  Stamford ;  "  but  we  heard  you  were  in  Lowell 
from  one  of  your  Stamford  friends." 

"Dear  James!  "she  murmured,  after  he  had  given 
her  an  account  of  what  had  passed.  "He  is  a  noble 
man.  He  has  been  a  dear  brother  to  me." 

All  this  time  Horace  had  not  even  intimated  the 
existence  of  any  new  tie,  such  as  Mr.  Ashley  had 
mentioned,  and  though  his  ardent  manner  was  such  as 
to  render  his  marriage  highly  improbable,  yet  she 
longed  to  hear  from  his  own  lips  the  assurance  of  his 
continued  attachment  to  herself. 

"You  have  changed  far  less  than  I  feared,"  he  said, 
gazing  tenderly  in  her  face,  and  laying  his  hand  fondly 
on  her  silky  curls.  "  Perhaps  this  new  style  of  wear 
ing  the  hair  makes  you  look  younger."  He  took  the 
small  locket  from  his  breast,  and  began  to  compare  it 
with  the  living  face  before  him. 

"O  Juliette!"  he  exclaimed,  "how  often  I  have 
wept  over  this,  when  no  eye  but  that  of  God  saw  me  I 
For  almost  two  years  I  have  mourned  you  as  dead." 


JULIETTE.  363 

He  drew  her  to  him,  and,  with  her  head  resting  on 
his  shoulder,  they  mingled  their  tears  together. 

At  length,  after  he  had  soothed  her  with  loving 
words,  she  lifted  her  face  to  his,  and  with  an  arch 
expression  said,  "  Did  you  never  think  of  me  as  mar 
ried?" 

"Married  !  "  he  repeated.  "No.  If  I  had  supposed 
you  living,  I  should  have  judged  you  by  my  own 
heart.  You  cannot  imagine,  though,  what  a  continued 
subject  of  regret  it  was  to  me  that  I  did  not  persuade 
you,  young  as  you  were,  to  accompany  me  abroad. 
Of  course,  you  have  not  heard  from  us ;  you  do  not 
know  that  my  cousin,  Mr.  William  Everett,  married 
in  France,  and,  with  his  wife,  joined  us  in  our 
travels." 

He  misinterpreted  the  rich,  warm  glow  which  spread 
over  her  cheek  as  she  thought  she  could  trace  in  this 
marriage  the  origin  of  the  rumor  which  had  reached 
her,  and  said  softly,  "  Would  you  like  to  travel, 
Juliette?  I  am  willing  to  go  anywhere  with  you, 
even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  But  you  are  such  a 
slippery  person,  running  away  from  home,  and  sojourn 
ing  in  the  most  unheard-of  places,  I  shall  scarcely 
venture  you  out  of  my  sight." 

The  tea-bell  and  Mr.  Ashley's  entrance  interrupted 
them. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  now,"  asked  the  gentleman, 
coming  forward  frankly,  "  for  my  alarming  rumor,  con 
cerning  your  brother,  the  other  day  ?  " 


364  JULIETTE. 

"What,"  inquired  Mr.  Everett,  retaining  Juliette's 
hand ;  "  have  you  been  telling  ,tales  of  me  ?  " 

"Don't,  oh,  please,  don't!"  urged  the  young  girl 
with  a  rosy  blush. 

"If  it  concerns  me,  I  ought,  in  justice,  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  answer  for  myself,"  said  Horace,  with 
mock  gravity. 

"  I  think  so,"  answered  the  pastor.  "  I  heard  through 
"Walker,  who  was  in  college  with  us,  that  you  were 
married,  and  repeated  the  rumor  to  your  sister, 
who  —  " 

"  Stop,  oh,  do  stop  !  "  cried  Juliette,  in  distress. 

Mr.  Ashley  was  more  and  more  mystified,  still 
supposing  Horace  and  Juliette  to  be  children  of  one 
mother,  when  the  young  man  said  earnestly,  "  But 
you  never  believed  it,  Juliette.  Even  though  I 
thought  you  dead,  the  memory  of  your  love  was  more 
than  all  the  world  to  me.  You  look  surprised,  Ben 
son,  and  call  Juliette  my  sister.  Thank  God,  there 
is  no  blood  relation  between  us,  for  I  love  her  with 
far  more  than  a  brother's  loye." 

"Ah,"  cried  Mr.  Ashley,  with  a  quiet  smile,  "all  is 
explained  now.  But  let  me  wait  upon  you  to  the 
table." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"A  springing  joy, 

A  pleasure  which  no  language  can  express, 
An  ecstasy  that  parents  only  feel, 
Plays  round  my  heart,  and  brightens  up  my  sorrow, 
Like  gleams  of  sunshine  in  a  lowering  sky." 

AFTER  tea,  Juliette  and  Agues  repaired  to  their 
chamber  to  make  preparations  for  the  departure 
of  the  former  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morning. 

"I  am  right  glad,"  cried  Agnes,  "that I  am  not  tore- 
turn  to  Lowell.  I  should  be  so  homesick  without  you. 
As  you  are  going  away,"  she  said,  turning  her  back, 
and  proceeding  vigorously  with  her  packing,  "  I  may 
as  well  tell  you  that  Mr.  Ashley  considers  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  become  a  benedict  as  soon  as  possible ; 
and  so  I  have  consented  to  be  married  in  two  months. 
It's  absurd,  I  know,  for  I  can't  begin  to  get  ready; 
but,  as  he  considers  that  no  good  excuse,  I  —  " 

."That's  a  good  girl !  "  responded  Juliette,  interrupt 
ing  her.  "  I'm  so  pleased  to  have  seen  him  ;  and  then 
Horace  knows  him  so  well." 

Agues  laughed  merrily,  "  I've  found  out  now,  why 

poor  Mr.  Mclntire  succeeded  no  better.     It  seemed 

very  strange  to  Mr.  Ashley  that  you  should  be  so  much 

affected  at  hearing  of  the  marriage  of  your  brother. 

31*  365 


366  JULIETTE. 

He  asked  me  what  it  could  mean.  And  you've  loved 
him  all  these  years,  my  poor  child?  " 

"Ever  since  I  can  remember,"  answered  Juliette, 
with  a  heightened  color,  ' '  and  when  I  had  given  up 
all  hope  of  ever  seeing  him  again." 

The  packing  was  speedily  completed ;  but  still  the 
young  girls  lingered  in  their  room,  realizing  that  it 
was  the  last  evening  they  should  pass  together  for  a 
long  time ;  until  at  length  one  of  the  children  was  sent 
by  Mr.  Ashley  to  summon  them  below. 

"I  have  done  my  best  to  entertain  my  old  friend," 
added  the  gentleman,  as  they  appeared,  "but  Mr.  Ev 
erett  has  found  something  so  fascinating  in  that  door, 
and  has  watched  so  eagerly  for  its  opening,  that  I  gave 
up  in  despair." 

Horace  smiled  as  he  led  Juliette  to  a  seat  next  himself 
on  the  sofa,  while  the  young  girl,  with  a  roguish  ex 
pression,  returned  the  pleasantry  by  saying,  "Agnes 
has  just  told  me  some  news  about  you,  Mr.  Ashley." 

"Has  she,  indeed?  You  are  more  highly  favored 
than  I  am.  May  I  be  allowed  the  benefit  of  it?" 

"No,  indeed!"  cried  Agnes,  hastily  approaching 
the  group.  "Don't  tell  him,  Juliette,"  and,  turning  to 
Mr.  Everett,  she  said,  gayly,  "  It  is  but  fair  to  warn 
you  that  you  have  a  rival  in  New  York." 

"Ah,  who  is  it?" 

"  A  gentleman  who  was  so  much  in  earnest  that  he 
was  not  satisfied  with  one  refusal." 

A  shadow  rested  upon  the  young  lawyer's  couute- 


JULIETTE.  367 

nance.  He  glanced  at  Juliette,  who  looked  much  dis 
tressed. 

"  O  Agnes !  "  she  remonstrated,  "  that  is  not  right. 
That  was  only  your  conjecture." 

"But  it  was  true.  I  saw  enough  of  his  devotion 
myself,  and  read  his  love  long  before" you  suspected  it." 

"By  the  way,"  remarked  Mr  Ashley,  quietly,  as  he 
perceived  that  Horace  was  far  from  pleased,  "we  ex 
pect  to  take  New  York  on  our  wedding  tour,  and  may 
call  upon  you  there." 

"  You  must  come  directly  to  our  house,"  cried  Juli 
ette,  joyfully,  while  Agnes  cast  down  her  eyes  in  great 
confusion. 

"  We  expect  to  be  married  in  four  weeks,"  he  added, 
gravely,  with  a  sly  glance  at  his  lady,  "  and  shall  take 
New  York  on  our  return." 

Juliette's  silvery  laugh  rang  through  the  room,  as 
she  caught  Agnes'  start  of  astonishment  at  this  stroke 
of  policy  on  the  part  of  her  lover. 

"October  is  a  delightful  mouth  to  travel,"  the  cren- 

O  O 

tleman  went  on,  in  a  tone  of  smothered  merriment, 
without  taking  the  least  notice  of  her  decided  shake  of 
the  head,  "and,  as  we  intend  to  go  as  far  as  Niagnra 
Falls,  the  sooner  we  start  the  better." 

Mr.  Barnard  and  his  son  coming  in  at  this  moment, 
the  conversation  became  general,  though  Juliette  per 
ceived  pretty  vigorous  signs  of  disapproval  from  Agnes, 
only  returned  by  roguish  glances  from  the  pastor. 

At  an  early  hour  the  family  assembled  for  evening 
devotions.  Mr.  Ashley  read  a  portion  of  Scripture ; 


368  JULIETTE. 

they  all  united  in  singing  a  hymn  of  praise,  and  then 
Mr.  Everett,  at  the  request  of  his  friend,  offered  a 
prayer  for  direction  and  support  through  all  the  trials 
and  duties  of  life. 

Juliette  wept  as  he  fervently  thanked  God  for  re 
storing  to  her  friends  one  who  had  been  so  painfully 
separated  from  them,  and  earnestly  implored  mercy  for 
him  who  lay  weak  and  languishing  upon  a  sick-bed. 

Mr.  Ashley  soon  followed  the  family  from  the  room, 
and  our  young  friend  was  about  to  impart  to  Mr.  Ev 
erett  her  wish  to  present  Agnes  with  some  token  of 
friendship,  when  she  perceived  that  he  was  struggling 
to  conceal  some  painful  emotion. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  began,  seriously,  "  but  there  is  a 
terrible  trial  yet  in  store  for  me.  It  was  so  unex 
pected,  so  overwhelming,  to  learn  that  you  were  still 
living."  He  took  her  hand,  but  instantly  dropped  it, 
and,  gazing  in  her  upturned  face  as  if  he  would  read 
her  very  soul,  said,  in  a  quivering  voice,  "Tell  me,  Juli 
ette,  tell  me  frankly,  —  and  may  God  give  me  strength 
to  endure  it,  if,  after  having  this  cup  of  happiness  at 
my  lips,  it  is  to  be  dashed  to  the  ground,  —  tell  me, 
what  did  you  mean  by  asking  whether  I  had  never 
thought  of  you  as  married  ?  What  does  your  friend 
mean  by  her  account  of  my  New  York  rival  ?  Have  I 
taken  too  much  for  granted  in  supposing  you  returned 
my  affection,  or  has  some  more  recent  attachment  won 
you  from  me  ? 

"You  are  agitated,  —  you  look  down.  O  Juliette  ! 
speak  frankly ;  it  will  be  best  for  both  of  us.  I  exoii- 


JULIETTE.  369 

erate  you  from  all  blauie.  You  knew  I  loved  you ;  but 
I,  I  only  have  been  in  fault.  I  have  left  you  two  long 
weary  years.  I  gave  too  easy  credence  to  —  " 

"Horace  !  O  Horace  !  why  will  you  speak  so  bitterly  ! 
You  frisrhten  me'.  I  have  never  loved  but  once,  and 

O  * 

that  affection  began  when  we  used  to  sit  together  in 
our  mother's  room,  and  you  told  me  stories  from  the 
Bible." 

She  placed  her  hand  confidingly  in  his,  and,  with  a 
fervent  "  Thank  God  !  "  he  strained  her  to  his  heart. 

"I  can  rest  quietly  now,"  he  said,  "and,  as  I  have 
scarcely  slept  for  two  nights,  I  shall  be  much  refreshed. 
But  what  could  I  have  done  if  my  dreadful  suspicion 
had  proved  true  ?  " 

After  arranging  for  their  journey,  he  placed  a  well- 
filled  purse  in  her  hands ;  but  she  returned  it,  saying, 
"  I  should  like  to  send  Agnes  a  wedding  present  of  a 
piano  ;  please  keep  it  for  me  till  then." 

It  was  not  until  a  very  late  hour  that  the  young  girls, 
having  retired  to  bed,  could  compose  themselves  suffi 
ciently  to  sleep. 

Agues  wished  to  talk  of  her  friend  the  clergyman, 
and  relate  their  plans.  Her  fathe'r,  being  now  able  to 
bear  the  expense,  had  proposed  adding  a  dining-room 
and  kitchen,  with  two  chambers,  to  the  farm-house, 
which,  with  the  parlor  and  Mr.  Ashley's  study,  would 
make  a  comfortable  tenement  for  the  newly-married 
pair.  She  could  scarcely  express  her  delight,  when 
Juliette  informed  her  of  the  intention  to  add  a  hand 
some  piano  to  the  furniture  of  the  parlor. 


370  JULIETTE. 

"I  see,"  she  cried,  half  laughing,  "that  Mr.  Ashley 
intends  to  be  obeyed.  Did  you  see  how  he  went  right 
on,  settling  our  wedding-day  as  if  I  had  not  a  word  to 
add  to  the  subject  ?  " 

Juliette  then,  taking  advantage  of  her  knowledge  of 
her  friend's  independent  character,  proceeded  to  make 
some  very  wise  remarks  upon  the  duty  of  wives  to 
yield  both  obedience  and  reverence  to  their  husbands, 
assuring  her  this  doctrine  was  explicitly  taught  in  the 
Bible,  which  they  had  both  taken  for  their  guide. 

Agnes  quite  broke  down  at  this,  and  began,  with 
tears,  to  lament  her  uufitness  for  the  duties  before  her, 
and  at  last  ended  by  declaring  that,  after  all,  if  she  did 
not  love  Mr.  Ashley  with  her  whole  heart  she  never 
could  and  never  would  promise  to  obey  him  ;  but  now 
Juliette  should  see,  when  they  visited  her  in  New  York, 
what  a  pattern  of  submission  and  obedience  she  had 
become. 

Then  with  a  good-night  kiss  they  went  quietly  to 
sleep,  little  imagining  that  the  gentleman  most  inter 
ested  was  only  separated  from  them  by  a  thin  partition 
which  did  not  prevent  his  having  the  full  benefit  of 
their  conversation. 

Mr.  Ashley,  without  mentioning  his  intention  to  any 
one,  had  shown  his  friend  to  his  study,  and  gone  in  to 
share  Willie's  narrow  bed,  which,  with  a  very  demuro 
look,  he  told  Agnes  the  next  morning,  he  did  not  re 
gret,  as  it  enabled  him  to  hear  her  friend's  most  able 
exposition  of  Paul's  directions  to  wives. 

The  young  girl  bit  her  lips  with  vexation  ;  but,  finally, 


JULIETTE.  371 

after  a  few  low-spoken  words  from  the  young  clergy 
man,  endeavored  to  turn  off  the  whole  subject  as  a 
joke. 

The  parting  between  the  friends  was  much  softened 
by  the  anticipation  of  soon  meeting  again ;  and,  in 
truth,  Juliette  now  began  to  be  so  impatient  to  com 
mence  her  journey,  and  see  her  father,  that  she  could 
scarcely  be  pained  by  anything. 

They  reached  Boston  in  season  to  take  the  evening 
express  train  for  New  York,  where  they  arrived  at  an 
early  hour  the  following  morning. 

Seeing  that  their  own  carriage  was  nowhere  in  sight, 
Horace  called  a  hack-driver  to  take  them  to  Madison 
Square,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  with  a  wildly  beating 
heart  and  tear-dimmed  eyes,  Juliette  ascended  the 
steps  to  her  fondly  remembered  home. 

Eufus,  the  porter,  after  a  few  moments'  delay, 
opened  the  door  and  gave  a  scream  of  joy,  when  he 
recognized  her ;  but  she  could  only  whisper,  — 

"  How  is  my  father  ?  " 

"Very  sick,  miss,  I'm  sorry  to  say;  but  your 
coming  home  will  cure  him,  and  set  everything  right." 

Horace,  seeing  with  how  much  difficulty  she  con 
trolled  herself,  led  her  hastily  to  the  parlor,  and  rang 
the  bell  for  a  servant  to  bring  a  glass  of  wine. 

It  was  still  very  early,  but  the  glad  news  speedily 
flew  through  the  house  that  their  young  mistress  had 
returned ;  and  Eliza,  who  was  back  in  her  old  place, 
hastily  dressed,  in  order  to  meet  and  welcome  her. 
A  burst  of  tears,  however,  prevented  a  word  being 


372  JULIETTE. 

spoken  until  Juliette  asked  Horace  to  inform  her 
father  at  once  that  she  longed  to  see  him. 

"I  am  only  waiting  for  a  tinge  of  color  in  your 
cheeks  and  lips,"  he  said  gently.  "Now  I'll  go,  while 
you  take  off  your  bonnet  and  prepare  to  come  to 
him." 

"  Will  you  go  to  your  own  room,  miss  ?  "  asked  Eliza, 
wiping  her  eyes.  "  It  is  in  readiness  for  you." 

An  almost  overwhelming  tide  of  emotion  swept 
over  the  poor  girl  as  she  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the 
suite  of  elegant  apartments  from  which  she  had  so  long 
been  banished.  She  quickly  covered  her  face  as  she 
murmured,  — 

"  Oh,  how  little  I  ever  expected  to  be  here  again ! 
My  dear,  dear  home  ! " 

Eliza  eagerly  drew  forward  a  large  chair,  and  began 
to  talk  about  her  master. 

To  Juliette  each  moment  seemed  like  an  age  as  she 
sat  impatiently  listening  to  every  step.  "  Is  he 
changed  ?  How  will  he  receive  me  ?  "  she  asked  herself. 
At  length  she  could  control  her  desire  no  longer ; 
and,  stealing  gently  through  the  hall,  listened  through 
the  closed  door  for  a  sound  of  his  well-remembered 
voice. 

Presently  it  was  opened  from  within,  and  Horace, 
smiling  as  he  saw  her,  led  her  forward  into  the 
chamber. 

There  were  several  persons  in  the  apartment,  but 
the  happy  daughter  saw  only  a  pair  of  keen,  expectant 
eyes  gazing  wistfully  toward  the  entrance,  and,  with 


JULIETTE.  373 

one  bound,  was  by  his  side.  An  impressive  silence 
reigned  in  the  room,  as,  sinking  on  her  knees,  she 
crie'd  out,  — 

"  My  father  !     O  my  father  !  " 

She  caught  his  extended  hand  and  covered  it  with 
kisses,  while  the  glad  tears  rained  from  her  eyes. 

The  doctor  was  just  about  to  interfere,  as  he  saw 
what  a  terrible  struggle  was  going  on  in  the  breast  of 
his  patient,  when  the  convulsed  features  relaxed. 

"Juliette,"  gasped  the  broken  voice,  "  will  you  for 
give  all  my  cruel  wrong?  Can  you  forgive  all  this, 
my  child  ? " 

"  Dear,  dear  father,  all  is  forgiven ;  all  is  forgotten 
in  this  happy  meeting ;  "  and,  with  a  gush  of  joyful 
tears,  she  imprinted  kiss  after  kiss  on  his  cheeks,  brow, 
and  lips. 

"  God  is  merciful !  "  murmured  the  sick  man,  sink 
ing  back  wholly  overcome. 

Dr.  M ,  wiping  his  eyes,  came  quickly  to  the  bed, 

and  in  a  whisper  suggested  to  Juliette  that  she  had 
better  leave  the  chamber  until  he  were  more  com 
posed  ;  but  Mr.  Fearing,  overhearing  him,  feebly 
shook  his  head,  and  caught  his  daughter's  hand  press 
ing  it  to  his  bosom. 

"  I  will  be  calm,  doctor ;  I  will  do  anything  you 
wish,  only  let  me  stay.  I  can  soothe  him  to  sleep. 
I  used  often  to  do  it ;  "  and  she  laid  her  hand  caress 
ingly  on  his  burning  temples. 

The  physician  shook  his  head,  but  made  no  further 
objection.  He  administered  a  powder,  after  asking 

32 


374  JULIETTE. 

some  one  behind  him  how  long  since  he  had  taken  the 
last. 

Juliette  started  and  turned  quickly  around  with 
a  smile,  as  James's  voice  answered,  "Half  an  hour, 
sir." 

Henry  then  came  across  the  room  and  kissed  his 
sister  with  much  affection ;  after  which  she  bowed 
a  recognition  of  the  old  servants  who  were  present. 

After  a  few  moments  the  medicine  began  to  take 
effect,  and  the  patient,  still  grasping  the  hand  of  his 
daughter,  sank  into  a  doze. 

Horace,  who  was  at  her  side,  softly  suggested  that 
now  was  her  time  to  go  below  and  take  some  break 
fast  ;  but  she  would  not  consent  to  leave  the  room, 
lest  her  father  should  awake  and  miss  her. 

She  begged  him  to  go,  however,  with  James  and 
Henry,  promising  to  drink  a  cup  of  chocolate,  if 
he  would  send  it  to  her  there. 

She  motioned  to  James  to  come  nearer,  and,  in  a  low 
tone,  said,  — 

"  Thank  you,  my  kind  brother,  for  your  tender  care 
of  my  father." 

How  much  reason  she  had  to  thank  him  she  was 
not  aware  until  afterwards. 

When  alone  with  her  charge  she  had  time  to  gaze  at 
his  emaciated  countenance.  Whether  from  sickness  or 
sorrow,  or  both,  he  looked  ten  years  older  than  when 
she  had  last  seen  him.  His  hair,  which  was  then  black 
as  a  raven's  wing,  was  now  thickly  threaded  with 
silver ;  while  his  cheeks  were  furrowed,  and  his  brow 


JULIETTE.  375 

lined  with  care.  Still,  there  was  a  softened,  subdued 
expression  she  had  never  seen  there  before.  She 
bowed  her  head  in  gratitude  as  she  remembered  his 
last  words  to  Horace,  — 

"Tell  her  I'm  willing  now  !  " 

"  Who  can  tell,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  gazed, 
"  whether  he  may  not  have  become  a  participant  in  the 
religion  of  Jesus?  Perhaps  God  has  answered  my 
poor  prayers  for  his  conversion." 
'  She  started  from  her  reverie  as  he  smiled  in  his 
sleep  and  murmured,  "  Juliette." 

"  Yes,  dear  father,"  she  whispered,  "your  Juliette  is 
here,  —  your  happy  Juliette  !  —  feeling  that,  if  God  has 
heard  her  prayers  in  your  behalf,  her  cup  of  blessings 
is  full  to  overflowing." 

She  pressed  her  lips  softly  on  his  hand,  which  she 
still  held ;  but  even  this  did  not  awaken  him. 

Eliza  gently  opened  the  door,  bringing  a  silver  tray 
with  chocolate,  fresh  eggs,  and  toast,  from  the  break 
fast  table. 

These  she  placed  on  a  small  tea-poy  by  the  bed, 
saying,  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"  Mr.  Horace  broke  the  eggs  and  seasoned  them  for 
you,  and  he  hoped  you'd  eat  all  he  has  sent." 

She  stood  near,  watching  her  young  lady  as  she 
smilingly  proceeded  to  the  discussion  of  her  tempting 
repast.  Probably  the  night-ride  had  given  her  an 
appetite ;  or  her  heart  was  more  at  rest  than  usual, 
or  both  these  causes  combined ;  for  her  maid  had 
never  known  her  to  eat  with  so  keen  a  relish ;  and  she 


376  JULIETTE. 

had  not  yet  finished  when  the  young  men  returned 
to  the  chamber. 

Beckoning  her  from  the  bed,  Horace  informed  her 
that  Mr.  Smith  proposed  to  leave  New  York,  and  he 
knew  she  would  wish  to  speak  with  him  before  he  did 
so. 

"  Indeed  we  can't  spare  you,"  she  said,  in  a  subdued 
tone.  "  Is  the  farm  work  so  pressing  that  you  cannot 
give  one  day  to  your  old  friend  ?  " 

"I  have  already  written  twice  to  postpone  my 
return,"  said  the  young  man ;  "  and  now  that  he  and 
Mr.  Everett  are  here,  I  think  he  will  not  need 
me." 

"  But  I  have  had  no  time  to  inquire  for  your  father 
and  mother,  and  dear  Susan  and  Maria.  How  are 
they  all  ?  I  long  so  much  to  see  them. " 

"They  are  well.  I  have  promised  your  father  that 
Susan  shall  come,  if  you  wish  it,  and  make  you  a  long 
visit.  I  am  afraid  there  is  not  much  left  to  tell  him 

^ 

about  your  residence  in  Stamford.  It  was  the  only 
way  1  could  soothe  him  when  hour  after  hour  passed, 
and  you  did  not  return." 

"  Does  he  know  of  my  being  in  Lowell  ? "  she  in 
quired. 

"Yes  ;  I  could  not  deceive  him.  He  saw  there  was 
something  I  kept  back,  and  grew  so  much  excited  that 
I  thought  it  best  to  tell  him.  He  knows  all  about 
your  joining  Mr.  Allen's  church." 

"And  what  did  he  say?"  she  inquired,  with  an 
eager  glance  toward  the  bed. 


JULIETTE.  377 

"He  nodded,  and  said,  '  Yes,  I  expected  it.'  He  did 
not  speak  again  for  some  time.  I  think  he  was  praying.'' 

Juliette  darted  a  quick,  inquiring  look  at  the  young 
man. 

"Yes,  Juliette,  I  think  your  father  is  a  Christian. 
I  know  ho  prays ;  and  that  he  regards  his  cruel  per 
secution  of  you,  on  account  of  your  religion,  as  the 
most  dreadful  sin  of  his  life. 

"He  knows,  too,  of  your  terrible  illness.  He  wept 
like  a  child  when  I  told  him  of  your  dream  that  you 
had  a  letter  from  him  ;  and  how  afraid  we  were  to  tell  , 
you  there  was  none.  Yes,"  added  James,  speaking 
quickly,  and  growing  very  red  in  the  face,  "I  con 
fessed  all,  —  even  that  I,  a  poor  farmer,  dependent  upon 
my  daily  labor,  had  dared  to  love  his  child ;  and  he 
did  not  despise  me." 

With  an  anxious  glance  at  Horace,  Juliette  re 
plied, — 

"  I  know,  dear  James,  you  did  not  begin  to  tell  the 
generous,  brotherly  care  you  exercised  over  me ;  nor 
the  thousand  acts  of  tender  affection  from  all  your 
dear  family." 

A  slight  movement  from  the  bed  caused  the  watchful 
daughter  to  spring  to  his  side  just  as  the  sick  man 
opened  his  eyes. 

He  gazed  wildly  about  for  a  moment ;  but  a  warm 
smile  played  about  his  mouth  as  he  saw  his  daughter 
bending  over  him. 

"I  feel  better  and  stronger,"  said  he,  in  a  more 
cheerful  voice  than-  they  had  heard  from  him  for 

32* 


378  JULIETTE. 

X 

along  time.  "The  sight  of  you,  Juliette,  will  do  me 
more  good  than  all  Dr.  M 's  prescriptions." 

James  drew  nearer  to  bid  Mr.  Fearing  "good-by  ;  " 
but  the  sick  man  urged  him  to  remain  one  day  longer. 
"You  will  not  regret  it,"  said  he,  impressively. 

"If  I  can  really  be  of  service,  I  am  quite  willing 
and  glad  to  remain,"  replied  James,  cordially. 

The  reason  for  .this  urgency  was  not  apparent  until 
the  evening,  when  Mr.  Fearing,  being  really  more  like 
himself  than  since  their  return  from  abroad,  requested 
Horace  to  invite  Mr.  Smith  and  Henry  to  his  room. 

Holding  his  daughter's  hand,  he  turned  his  eye 
slowly  from  one  to  another  of  the  group  before  him, 
and  then,  in  a  quivering  voice,  began,  — 

"I  wish,  before  you  all,  to  make  acknowledgment 
of  my  harsh  persecution  of  my  daughter  on  account 
of  her  religion,  even  to  driving  her  from  her  home ; 
and  I  wish  to  exonerate  her  here  from  all  suspicion  of 
blame.  God  has  dealt  mercifully  with  me  in  restoring 
her  to  my  arms  before  I  die  ;  and  also  in  allowing  me 
to  hope  that  the  blood  of  his  Son  can  wash  away  guiVt 
even  as  great  as  mine.  Yes,  Mr.  Smith,"  he  added 
fervently,  as  he  extended  his  hand  to  the  young  man, 
"  I  do  believe  in  him.  I  do  cast  myself  at  the  foot  of 
his  cross ;  and  I  do  and  will  forever  plead  his  promise 
of  pardon  to  such  as,  repenting  of  their  sins,  and  turn 
ing  from  them  with  self-abhorrence  and  loathing,  come 
to  him  for  mercy." 

James  covered  his  face  and  shook  with  agitation, 
while  Juliette  sobbed  aloud,  as  after  a  few  moments' 


JULIETTE.  379 

pause  for  strength,  he  went  on.  "I  shall  never  forget 
your  faithfulness,  though  at  the  time  it  was  like  a  dag 
ger  piercing  to  my  very  heart.  To  my  daughter's 
consistent,  self-denying  devotion  to  her  Saviour  I  owe 
the  doubts  and  fears  which  filled  my  soul  respecting 
my  own  acceptance,  and  the  determination  to  live  a 
new  life.  Your  prayers  and  labors,  under  God,  have 
been  the  means  of  opening  my  eyes  to  his  astonishing 
grace,  so  that  I  can  see  in  his  glorious  Son  a  being 
who  acts  as  mediator  between  me  and  my  offended 
Judge." 

The  hand  which  held  his  daughter's  slightly  relaxed 
its  grasp,  and  Juliette  saw  a  pallor  settling  around  his 
mouth.  Alarmed  beyond  measure,  she  motioned  to 
Horace  to  observe  the  change,  when  James  calmly 
took  from  the  table  some  drops,  and  gave  them  to 
him. 

In  the  midst  of  her  terror,  Juliette's  heart  beat  more 
warmly  as  she  noticed  that  Henry  .seemed  much  af 
fected  at  his  father's  words.  All  stood  silently  watch 
ing  the  sufferer,  who  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  until  at 
length  he  spoke,  feebly.  "  I  am  relieved.  Mr.  Smith, 
will  you  pray  with  me  ?  " 

Even  after  James  had  taken  the  position  of  prayer, 
Mr.  Fearing  touched  his  hand  and  added ,  "  Pray  that 
J  may  not  deceive  myself,  but  may  be  ready  to  appear 
before  Him  when  my  summons  comes." 

This  remark,  showing  that  he  thought  himself  near 
his  end,  so  affected  his  daughter,  that  she  was  obliged 
to  put  a  great  constraint  upon  her  feelings  to- keep  from 


380  JULIETTE. 

weeping  aloud ;  but,  after  a  moment,  the  fervor  of  the 
petitions  soothed  her,  and  her  heart  echoed  the  words 
as  James  implored  grace  and  strength  for  the  duties  of 
life,  triumph  in  death,  and  immortal  blessedness  for  the 
life  to  come. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"  When  love's  well-timed,  'tis  not  a  fault  to  love ; 
The  strong,  the  weak,  the  virtuous,  and  the  wise 
Sink  in  the  soft  captivity  together." 

ONE  week  later  the  same  party  were  assembled  in 
Mr.  Fearing's  room,  except  that,  instead  of 
James  Smith,  Susan  occupied  a  seat  near  the  bed. 

Mr.  Fearing  was  now  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able 
to  sit  up  several  hours  at  a  time  ;  but,  except  for  neces 
sary  exercise  in  the  open  air,  he  could  not  bear  his  daugh 
ter  out  of  his  sight.  She  read  to  him,  combed  his  hair, 
and  chatted  by  the  hour  together.  Indeed,  at  no  time 
in  her  life  had  she  ever  been  so  truly  happy.  In  the 
confidence  and  affection  now  subsisting  between  her 
and  her  father ;  in  the  ardent  love  of  Horace  ;  in  the 
tender  sympathy  of  her  reformed  brother ;  in  the  en 
dearing  friendship  of  the  lively  Susan,  day  after  day 
passed,  and  she  often  asked  herself,  "  What  could  I 
wish  for  more  ?  " 

Mr.  Fearing  had  conceived  a  great  fondness  for  the 
warm-hearted  girl  who  had  been  such  a  firm  friend  to 
his  daughter ;  and  this  feeling  was  shared  by  Henry  ; 
so  much  so,  that  hour  after  hour  he  passed  in  his  fa 
ther's  room,  listening  to  her  ever-ready  sallies  of  wit. 

381 


382  JULIETTE. 

In  contrast  to  the  silly  belles,  there  was  something  so 
fresh,  so  piquant,  so  charming  in  this  child  of  nature, 
that  he  could  not  tear  himself  from  her  society.  Then 
she  talked  so  unreservedly  to  him,  —  told  him  so  frankly 
what  she  deemed  his  faults, —  recommended  so  earnestly 
that  he  would  come  out  to  Stamford  and  put  himself 
under  James's  tuition,  with  the  hope,  that  in  time,  he 
might  exchange  his  life  of  listless  indolence  for  that  of 
an  energetic  farmer,  —  that,  although  he  received  her 
suggestions  with  bursts  of  laughter,  yet  he  remembered 
and  determined  to  profit  by  them. 

Mr.  Fearing  one  day  glanced  at  his  daughter  with 
a  quiet  smile,  as  Henry  and  Susan,  too  intent  upon 
their  own  conversation  to  notice  that  others  were  lis 
tening  to  them,  were  eagerly  discussing  the  compara 
tive  advantages  of  country  and  of  city  life. 

"Oh  !"  exclaimed  the  impulsive  girl ;  "I  should  die 
to  be  shut  up  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other  between 
stone  walls,  where  I  never  could  see  the  green  fields, 
and  the  waving,  golden  grain.  There  is  nothing  in 
this  city  you  boast  so  much  of,  that  can  compare  with 
father's  ten-acre  lot,  when  the  barley  is  just  beginning 
to  shoot  forth  its  bearded  head.  I  don't  believe  you 
ever  saw  anything  so  beautiful." 

"  But  think  of  whole  streets  of  magnificent  houses," 
returned  Henry.  "Think  of  continuous  blocks  of 
stores,  such  as  Stewart's,  their  windows  filled  with  rich 
goods.  You  have  nothing  like  these  in  Stamford,  or 
in  the  country  anywhere." 

"Houses  and  stores  do  not  constitute  my  happiness," 


JULIETTE.  383 

she  excnliraed,  with  a  disdainful  toss  of  her  head. 
"  Nature  is  better  than  art,  any  time.  I  know  I  can't 
reason  well,"  she  added,  as  he  smiled;  "but  nothing 
can  convince  me  that  the  people  who  have  lived  in  the 
country  are  not  better,  more  natural,  and  happier  than 
those  who  live  in  the  city.  Now,  for  instance,  the  city 
gentlemen  think  of  nothing  but  making  money,  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other ;  or,  if  they  have  enough, 
as  you  have,  they  either  grow  dissipated  and  vicious 
for  want  of  some  active  employment,  or,  if  fortunately, 
principle  restrains  them  from  such  excesses,  their  lives 
are  passed  in  watching  the  growth  of  their  mus 
taches  "  (she  had  been  laughing  at  him  for  his  habit  of 
curling  his  with  his  fingers),  "giving  orders  for  new 
suits  of  clothes,  driving  fast  horses,  lolling  in  saloons, 
or  in  similar  expedients. for  killing  time." 

"  Or  in  discussing  questions  of  importance  with 
young  ladies  from  the  country,"  added  Henry,  de 
murely.  "  But  let  us  hear  how  a  young  man  who  had 
some  money  at  his  command  would  do  in  the  country." 

Susan  was  wide-awake  now,  and,  with  her  head  very 
erect,  began  :  "  Oh,  he  would  first  select  some  beauti 
ful  spot  where  there  were  trees,  and  a  lake,  and  slop 
ing  green  lawns,  and  build  a  fine  house ;  not  a  high, 
stone  building  like  the  city  houses,  but  a  lovely  cot 
tage,  with  bay-windows,  and  porticoes,  and  verandas, 
and  all  sorts  of  cosey  places  ;  and  then  plant  woodbine 
and  honeysuckle  to  run  over  them.  It  would  be  splen 
did  ;  and  then  he  would  marry  a  beautiful  girl  like 
Juliette." 


384  JULIETTE. 

*  "A  city  belle,  after  all." 

"No,  she  was  brought  up  in  the  country;  but  you 
put  me  out.  I  was  just  having  him  bring  home  his 
wife,  and  then  he  really  begins  to  live  ;  for  now  every 
body  respects  him.  He  carries  on  his  place,  and  this 
gives  employment  to  a  great  many  poor  people  who 
look  up  to  him,  and  whom,  of  course,  he  can  benefit  if 
he  chooses.  Then  his  wife  is  so  happy !  She  goes 
singing  about  the  house,  or  walking  over  the  pleasant 
grounds,  planning  improvements  with  her  husband,  or 
visiting  the  cottages  of  their  laborers,  and  encouraging 
them  to  do  their  best. 

"Then,  as  years  go  by,  this  man  is  beloved  and  re 
spected  in  the  whole  town.  He  is  an  example  to  his 
neighbors  of  moral  integrity,  sanctified  by  religious 
principle.  When  he  passes,  the  children  point  to  him 

and  say,  'There  goes  our  good  Mr. .  He's  a  friend 

to  the  poor,  and  Heaven's  blessings  will  rest  upon  him.' 
Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  he  will  have  trials.  Every 
body  does ;  but  when  they  come,  God  will  give  him 
strength  to  bear  them.  At  any  rate,"  she  added,  draw 
ing  her  description  to  a  sudden  close  as  she  met  his 
earnest  eye,  "  his  time  will  be  so  usefully  and  happily 
employed  that  he  will  never  suffer  from  ennui,  so  that 
he  will  yawn,  and  exclaim  a  dozen  times  in  an  hour, 
'What  shall  I  do  with  myself  till  dinner?  How  ter 
ribly  tedious  these  long  days  are  ! f : 

Henry  laughed  heartily.  "You'd  make  a  capital 
preacher,  Susan ;  you  never  end  without  a  personal 
application ;  but  you've  convinced  me.  I'll  never  say 


JULIETTE.  385 

a  word  about  the  pleasures  of  city  life  again ;  and  if  J 
only  knew  some  fair  damsel  who  would  consent  to  plan 
improvements  about  my  grounds,  I  should  be  tempted 
to  begin  the  life  of  a  country  gentleman  at  once." 

"There  are  a  plenty  of  them,"  she  replied,  frankly  ; 
"  but  whether  they  would  dare  venture  their  happiness 
with  so  thoroughly  a  city  gentleman  is  a  question." 
And,  with  an  arch  glance  into  his  grave  face,  she  sud 
denly  left  the  room. 

It  was  true,  as  James  had  said,  that  Mr.  Fearing 
had  delighted  to  hear  of  the  manner  in  which  his 
daughter  had  passed  her  time  in  Stamford ;  how 
quickly  she  won  both  the  love  and  respect  of  all  who 
knew  her ;  nor  was  Juliette  soon  tired  of  relating  to 
him  instances  of  the  watchful  care  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Smith  for  her  comfort,  the  hearty  generosity  of  James, 
and  the  sisterly  affection  of  the  young  girls. 

They  consulted  earnestly  together  as  to  some  method 
of  returning  these  obligations,  especially  to  the  young 
farmer  whose  faithfulness  had  been  so  much  blessed  to 
the  soul  of  the  sick  man. 

Mr.  Fearing,  a  thorough  business  man,  proposed  to 
give  him  a  place  in  his  own  store,  with  capital  enough 
to  ensure  his  success ;  but  Juliette  was  positive  he 
would  prefer  a  farm  in  the  country,  with  money  enough 
to  stock  it. 

To  anticipate  a  few  months,  this  was  happily  accom 
plished,  and  the  young  girl  had  the  pleasure  of  behold 
ing  her  friends,  James  and  Josey,  comfortably  settled 
in  their  own  pretty  cottage,  surrounded  by  well-tilled 
33 


386  JULIETTE. 

fields  connected  with  their  farm,  about  three  miles  from 
his  father's  residence. 

As  Mr.  Fearing's  health  became  established,  Horace 
claimed  Juliette's  promise  to  name  an  early  day  for 
their  wedding.  Their  father's  fflad  consent  had  been 

O  o 

given  soon  after  her  return  to  her  home ;  and  as  he 
insisted  that  they  should  still  constitute  one  family, 
there  seemed  no  reason  for  delay. 

In  the  intimacy  of  their  new  relation,  the  young 
lawyer  often  acknowledged  the  truth  of  the  trite 
adage,.— 

"  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity." 

The  trials  and  persecutions  through  which  she  had 
passed  had  given  to  our  heroine  far  more  strength 
and  firmness  of  character.  Indeed,  in  speaking  of  the 
past,  she  said  with  tears,  "I  shudder  when  I  think  how 
near  I  was  to  the  fearful  vortex  of  worldliness  which 
has  engulfed  so  many,  even  professing  Christians." 
In  her  case,  certainly,  Mr.  Everett  could  realize  the 
truth  of  the  inspired  words,  "  No  chastening  for  the 
present  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous ;  never 
theless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruits 
of  righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exercised 
thereby." 

In  accordance  with  the  will  of  their  mother,  Henry 
and  Juliette  shared  alike  the  inheritance  they  received 
from  her,  and  of  which  they  came  into  possession  on 
reaching  their  majority.  The  portion  of  our  heroine, 
which  amounted  to  a  handsome  fortune,  remained  un 
touched.  Unfortunately,  her  brother  acquired  the 


JULIETTE.  387 

right  to  spend  his  before  his  father's  dangerous  illness 
and  his  sister's  departure  from  home  led  him  to  reflect 
upon  his  mad  career,  and  determine  to  begin  a  refor 
mation.  Before  this  time  his  father  had  absolutely 
refused  to  squander  any  more  money  in  paying  debts 
of  honor,  as  Henry  falsely  called  the  demands  of  the 
vilest  gambler^  of  the  city ;  so  that,  when  he  reached 
his  twenty-first  year,  one-third  of  his  entire  fortune 
was  sacrificed  to  blacklegs. 

Before  his  daughter's  marriage,  it  was  Mr.  Fearing's 
determination  to  make  his  will,  bequeathing  to  his  son, 
at  his  decease,  the  elegant  mansion  in  which  they  then 
resided,  and  such  a  proportion  of  his  interest  in  their 
firm  as  would  make  him  independent  for  life.  It  had 
for  many  years  been  a  subject  of  keen  regret  that  the 
young  man  did  not  devote  himself,  as  he  had  done,  to 
mercantile  pursuits,  which,  from  the  first,  Henry  had 
declared  distasteful  to  him. 

Now  the  animated  conversations  of  Susan  regarding 
the  pleasures  of  country  life  recalled  his  own  long- 
cherished  plan  of  passing  his  last  days  remote  from 
the  turmoil  and  confusion  of  the  busy  world  in  which 
he  dwelt. 

His  father,  enfeebled  more  by  sorrow  than  by  age, 
had  long  wished  to  give  up  the  care  attendant  upon  so 
large  an  estate,  and  would,  he  was  sure,  be  delighted 
to  have  his  only  grandson  settled  upon  it. 

Several  long  and  earnest  conversations  took  place 
between  the  father  and  sou,  Henry  being  roused  to  a 
new  energy  by  the  thought  of  commencing  life  afresh 


388  JULIETTE. 

in  the  character  of  a  country  gentleman.  Whatever 
visions  of  a  bright-eyed,  laughing,  and  withal  somewhat 
saucy,  lass  had  to  do  with  his  determination,  he  did 
not  say ;  but  declared  and  reiterated  his  resolve  to 
live  in  the  country. 

At  length  he  went  out  to  consult  his  grandfather 
and  Dr.  Morrison,  and  returned  two  days  later  with 
the  joyful  announcement  that  he  was  no  longer  a  loafer 
about  town,  as  Susan  had  laughingly  called  him,  but 
the  true  and  veritable  owner  of  a  country-seat,  upon 
which  he  was  determined  to  live  henceforth  and 
forever. 

He  was  rather  vexed  that  this  news  did  not  in  the 
least  alter  the  young  lady's  manner  toward  him,  except 
to  make  her  laugh  the  more  at  the  idea  of  the  New 
York  exquisite,  with  his  embossed  slippers,  his  gor 
geous  dressing-gown,  and  his  perfumed  cigar,  loitering 
about  the  farm,  hindering  the  workmen  with  his  un 
meaning  questions ;  or  volunteering  orders  one  day, 
to  be  countermanded  the  next. 

"I  think  you  are  too  bad,  Susan,"  urged  Juliette, 
one  day,  as  in  more  lively,  caustic  terms  than  usual, 
she  had  been  setting  his  sins  in  order  before  him,  until 
the  young  man  left  the  room  in  great  displeasure. 
"Henry  is  really  trying  to  reform,  and  I  think  a  little 
encouragement  would  do  him  good." 

For  a  moment  the  young  girl  was  silent,  and 
remained  with  her  eyes  fixed  intently  on  her  work  ; 
but  presently  said,  frankly,  "If  you  think  I  have 
really  said  more  than  I  ought,  I  will  tell  him  so." 


JULIETTE.  389 

Juliette  smiled  her  approval,  and  Susan  left  the 
room  in  search  of  the  gentleman,  whom  she  found  at 
last,  lying  at  full  length  upon  the' sofa,  his  face  con 
cealed  by  the  rich  cushion. 

He  sprang  up  when  he  recognized  her  step,  but  only 
to  meet  an  arch  glance  at  the  listless  attitude  in  which 
she  had  discovered  him. 

"Mr.  Fearing,"  she  began,  in  a  voice  which  she 
vainly  tried  to  render  serious,  "you  have  lived  such  a 
life  of  self-indulgence,  and  been  so  excessively  flat 
tered  for  traits  which  you  did  or  did  not  possess,  that 
I  fear  you  have  lost  the  power  of  recognizing  who  are 
your  true  friends,  and  who  seek  your  best  good.  You, 
who "  have  only  to  exhibit  yourself  and  your  beauti 
fully  curled  mustaches  in  society,  in  order  to  be 
caressed  and  cajoled  by  manoeuvring  mammas,  and 
lisping,  listless  daughters,  surely  cannot  take  offence 
at  any  joking  remark  a  poor,  ignorant  country  girl 
may  make.  Nevertheless,  I  may,  and  probably  have 
been  disrespectful  and  too  familiar  toward  one  so 
much  my  superior  in  rank,  wealth,  and  wisdom  ;  and, 
if  so,  justice  to  myself  requires  me  to  ask  you  to 
excuse  it." 

Then,  with  a  low  courtesy  of  mock  humility,  before 
he  could  catch  his  breath  to  reply,  she  had  resumed 
her  seat  and  her  work  near  Juliette,  unmindful  of  his 
earnest  call,  "  Susan  !  Stop,  Sustin  !" 

At  the  dinner-table,  both  Horace  and  Juliette  found 
it  almost  impossible  to  conceal  their  merriment  at  the 
suddenly  changed  manners  of  tire  once  lively  girl. 

33* 


390  JULIETTE. 

"With  her  eyes  fixed  immovably  upon  her  plate,  she 
did  not  speak  except  when  addressed ;  and  then,  when 
in  answer  to  a  question  from  Henry,  in  a  tone  of  hu 
mility  and  deference  so  unlike  herself,  that  the  young 
man  was  wholly  disconcerted,  while  Mr.  Fearing 
glanced  inquiringly  from  one  to  another,  entirely 
unable  to  account  for  the  silence  of  his  favorite  guest. 

"Juliette,"  cried  the  young  girl,  after  they  had 
returned  to  the  parlor,  suddenly  throwing  off  her 
forced  reserve,  "New  York  air  doesn't  agree  with  me. 
I'm  going  home  to  morrow." 

"Then  I  shall  accompany  you,"  exclaimed  Henry. 
"I  have  important  business  in  Stamford." 

He  returned,  however,  thoroughly  disheartened, 
ready  to  renounce  his  plan  of  living  in  the  country, 
and  to  fall  back  into  his  old  pursuits ;  for  Susan  had 
virtually  declined  to  be  his  companion  in  his  new 
home.  From  some  source  she  had  learned  of  his 
former  dissipation;  and,  though  he  frankly  confessed 
the  vicious  courses  which  he  now  deeply  lamented, 
she  could  not  venture  to  give  the  happiness  of  her 
whole  life  to  the  keeping  of  a  man  who,  as  yet,  had 
scarcely  commenced  the  work  of  reform. 

In  a  letter,  however,  which  she  wrote  to  Juliette, 
she  accepted  the  invitation  to  act  as  bridesmaid  at  the 
rapidly  approaching  nuptials,  and  confessed,  in  her 
usual  frank  manner,  that  if  Henry  persevered  in  rous 
ing  himself,  and  in  proving  that  he  was  a  man  of  energy 
and  worth,  she  thould  love  him  with  all  her  heart. 

This  epistle,  which  the  young  lady  lost  no  time  in 


JULIETTE.  391 

showing  to  her  brother,  so  revived  his  drooping  spirits, 
that  he  provided  himself  with  treatises  on  the  man 
agement  of  lauds,  orchards,  and  stocks,  and  went  to 
work  in  earnest  to  fit  himself  for  the  onerous  duties 
he  was  about  to  assume. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

"  A.  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 
Doubling  his  pleasure,  and  his  cares  dividing." 

ONE  of  the  first  calls  made  by  our  heroine  after  her 
return  to  New  York  was  upon  her  former  pastor, 
Dr.  A .  To  her  great  delight,  her  father  accompa 
nied  her,  and  made  known  to  the  good  man  the  entire 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  his  views  and  feel 
ings  on  the  subject  of  religion.  After  a  protracted 
interview,  he  requested  to  be  considered  as  a  candi 
date  for  admission  to  the  church,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  Juliette  should  remove  her  cmirch  relation  from 
Stamford  on  the  same  Sabbath. 

During  the  conversation  between  her  father  and  Dr. 

A ,  the  young  girl  was  exceedingly  affected  by  the 

humility  and  deep  sense  of  sin  expressed  by  the  for 
mer,  and  the  ardor  with  which  he  looked  forward  to 
serving  Christ.  As  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  the 
carriage,  she  clasped  his  hand  in  hers,  as  she  exclaimed, 
ft  How  safe  it  is  to  trust  ourselves  and  those  dear  to  us 
in  the  hands  of  a  gracious  God  !  I  prayed  month  after 
month,  and  year  after  year,  until  I  began  almost  to 
despond  ;  but  in  his  own  good  time  he  has  granted  me 
the  desire  of  my  heart." 

892 


JULIETTE.  393 

A  most  interesting  conversation  followed,  in  which 
Mr.  Fearing  related  many  incidents  in  the  life  of  his 
beloved  Juliette,  the  mother  of  Horace,  —  events 
which,  now  that  he  loved  prayer  and  the  services  of 
religion,  had  caused  him  bitter  tears,  lest,  in  denying 
her  the  consolations  of  Christian  friendship,  he  had 
caused  her  many  hours  of  sorrow. 

From  Mrs.  Ward  Folsom,  lately  returned  from 
Scotland,  where  she  had  relatives,  Juliette  also 
received  a  most  cordial  welcome.  From  this  lady  she 
learned  with  deep  emotion,  for  the  first  time,  of  the 
inconsolable  grief  of  her  father  on  finding  she  had 
abandoned  her  home ;  and  the  extensive  search  that 
had  been  made  for  her  all  along  the  route  of  the 
Harlem  cars. 

Almost  as  soon  as  she  reached  New  York,  Juliette 
had  written  to  her  dear  teacher,  Mrs.  Osboru,  and  was 
now  daily  expecting  a  visit  from  her,  to  continue  until 
after  her  marriage,  the  preparations  for  which  were 
going  rapidly  forward. 

It  was  neither  her  desire  nor  that  of  Mr.  Everett  to 
have  a  public  wedding,  even  if  Mr.  Fearing's  health 
would  have  allowed  him  to  be  present  in  scenes  of  ex 
citement.  Since  their  return  from  abroad  they  had 
not  re-entered  society ;  nor  did  she  ever  wish  to  be  in 
volved  in  such  an  extensive  circle  as  during  her  first 
winter  in  the  city ;  a  more  select  company  of  friends 
being  far  more  congenial  to  her  feelings. 

The  determination  of  Henry  to  establish  himself 
permanently  at  H ,  as  soon  as  the  spring  opened, 


394  JULIETTE. 

had  caused  an  entire  change  in  the  disposition  of  Mr. 
Fearing's  estate.  As  Mr.  Everett's  business  would 
detain  him  in  town  during  the  greater  part  of  the  year, 
the  house  in  Madison  Square  was,  at  his  decease,  to  be 
come  the  property  of  his  daughter,  together  with  a 
considerable  fortune  in  bank  stocks.  To  his  son  he 
bequeathed  an  equal  portion,  in  addition  to  the  estate 
made  over  to  him  by  his  grandfather.  The  remainder 
of  his  fortune  was  distributed  among  different  benevo 
lent  societies  and  objects  of  charity  in  the  city. 

With  the  zeal  and  energy  which  had  always  charac 
terized  him,  Mr.  Fearing  gave  himself  no  rest  until 
his  affairs  were  definitely  arranged. 

"Now,"  said  he,  when  Horace,  having  spent  some 
hours  with  him  in  looking  over  and  signing  papers, 
announced  the  business  completed,  "in  case  of  my 
sudden  decease,  my  executors  will  find  no  difficulty  in 
settling  my  estate." 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  the  young  people  to 
start  immediately  after  their  marriage  for  New  Orleans, 
spending  a  few  days  in  each  of  the  principal  cities  on 
the  route  ;  but  at  the  last  this  journey  was  indefinitely 
postponed  on  account  of  the  repugnance  Mr.  Fearing 
expressed1  at  his  daughter's  continued  absence  from 
home. 

This  was  the  more  singular  as  never  since  his 
mother's  death,  nearly  two  years  earlier,  had  he  ap 
peared  in  such  firm  health  as  at  present.  But  Juliette 
delighted  to  yield  her  own  wishes  to  his,  and  was 
more  than  repaid  for  any  self-denial  it  might  have  cost 


JULIETTE.  395 

her  by  the  delight  he  manifested  when  told  she  would 
not  leave  him. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  the  early  part  of  No 
vember  when  the  nuptials  were  to  be  celebrated.  The 
bridal  dress  consisted  of  a  robe  of  white  satin,  covered 
with  the  most  exquisitely  rich  lace,  and  decorated  with 
orange  blossoms  and  lilies  of  the  valley.  The  chaplet 
was  formed  of  similar  flowers  with  pendants  of  jessa 
mine. 

Attached  to  the  back  of  the  head  was  a  veil  of 
costly  Brussels  lace,  which  had  been  worn  by  her  step 
mother,  and  which  was  of  such  a  length  that  it  swept 
the  floor. 

Susan  wore  a  rich  white  silk,  a  present  from  Mr. 
Fearing,  covered  with  gossamer  foce  and  tastefully 
ornamented  with  flowers. 

Our  heroine,  in  company  with  her  father  and  grand 
father,  Henry  and  Susan,  rode  to  Dr.  A 's church; 

Horace,  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Morrison  and  Mrs.  Osboru 
having  preceded  them  in  another  carriage. 

The  moment  the  steps  were  let  down  a  crowd 
pressed  near  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  bride ; 
and,  though  it  was  intended  that  the  wedding  should  be 
private,  yet  on  their  entrance  they  found  every  part 
of  the  house  filled  with  eager  spectators. 

Susan  taking  Henry's  arm  preceded  the  bridal  pair 
through  the  crowded  aisle.  A  mist  before  Juliette's 
eyes  prevented  her  noticing  or  being  embarrassed  by 
the  admiration  her  beauty  called  forth.  She  saw 
nothing  but  the  venerable  pastor,  heard  nothing  but 


396  JULIETTE. 

the  solemn  words  which  united  her  to  her  chosen 
friend  until  they  were  separated  by  death;  and  then, 
clinging  to  her  husband's  arm  for  support  from  the 
emotions  which  almost  overwhelmed  her,  was  led  once 
more  through  the  excited  crowd  of  spectators,  and 
lifted  faint  and  trembling  into  the  carriage. 

Mr.  Fearing  found  it  difficult  to  retain  his  com 
posure  as  Horace  leaned  forward,  and,  imprinting  a  kiss 
upon  her  pale  cheek,  whispered,  "  My  own  dear  one, 

NOW  AND  FOREVER  !  " 

It  was  considered  a  relief  by  all  when  Susan  ex 
claimed,  in  an  animated  tone,  "  Oh,  dear,  how  glad  I 
am  it's  over  !  I  shook  with  fear  just  as  if  I  myself  was 
being  married.  I  never  noticed  before  what  solemn 
words  one  has  to  say." 

On  their  return  to  the  house  the  bridal  party  had 
scarcely  time  to  collect  their  thoughts  before  carriage 
after  carriage  of  invited  guests  drove  to  the  door. 

From  eleven  until  one,  ladies  with  their  respective 
gentlemen  closely  followed  one  another  into  the  large 
parlors,  were  led  up  and  introduced  to  the  bride  and 
groom,  to  whom  they  offered  their  salutations  and 
congratulations. 

The  wedding  repast  was  laid  out  in  the  spacious 
dining-hall  in  the  rear,  elegantly  decorated  with  long 
garlands  of  flowers  twined  into  the  ornamental  trellis- 
work  of  the  apartment,  while  the  doors  and  windows 
were  hung  with  wreaths  of  orange  blossoms  and  other 
flowers  emblematic  of  the  happy  occasion.  These  dec- 


JULIETTE.  397 

creations,  combined  with  the  subdued  roseate  hue  from 
the  damask  curtains,  produced  a  most  beautiful  effect. 

In  the  centre  of  the  table  an  immense  salver  of  solid 
silver  supported  the  loaf  of  wedding  cake  which  was  a 
perfect  marvel  of  sugar  architecture.  The  rest  of  the 
board  was  covered  with  rich  cakes,  jellies,  sugared 
fruit  in  every  variety,  interspersed  with  massive  silver 
tankards,  elegantly  chased  and  chastely  flowered  vases, 
Sevres,  Dresden,  and  Worcester  china. 

At  two  the  newly  married  pair  took  the  cars  for 
Boston,  from  which  place  they  proposed  to  go  to 
Lowell,  and  pass  one  day  in  bidding  adieu,  to  friends 
from  whom  she  had  so  suddenly  taken  her  departure. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  quite  surprised  when  her  young 
servant  announced  that  Miss  Edwards,  with  a  gentle 
man,  had  called  upon  her. 

She  went  cordially  forwrard  to  meet  her  former 
boarder,  who,  with  a  blush,  introduced  her  companion 
as,  "  My  husband,  Mr.  Everett." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  the  lady,  gazing  at  the  gentleman's 
fine,  open  countenance  with  new  interest. 

The  young  bride  then  proceeded  in  her  own  artless, 
unaffected  manner  to  inquire  for  Miss  Palmer,  and  her 
other  fellow-boarders. 

"  We  missed  you  and  Agnes,  sadly,"  said  the  lady, 
after  answering  her  questions.  "It  scarcely  seemed 
like  home  to  us,  without  your  lively  conversation  and 
music." 

"Does  Annie  play  much  now?"  asked  Mrs.  Everett. 
"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  bring  her  a  few  pieces  of 
34 


398  JULIETTE. 

new  music.  If  Hannah  will  go  out  to  the  carriage,  the 
driver  will  give  her  the  bundle  containing  them,  and 
also  a  small  present  for  herself. 

"You were  always  ready  to  oblige  me,  Hannah," she 
added,  meeting  the  girl  at  the  door,  "  and  here  is  a  new 
dress  I  bought  in  New  York,  on  purpose  to  please 
you." 

"Indeed,  miss  !"  exclaimed  Hannah,  ignorant  of  the 
new  title  of  the  young  lady,  "  you  are  very  kind ;  but 
I  declare  to  my  heart,  miss,  I'd  rather  have  yourself 
back  again  than  six  new  dresses ;  and  that's  true  for 
you,  miss." 

Her  husband  and  Mrs.  Palmer  overheard  the  brief 
conversation. 

"If  you'll  excuse  the  liberty,  sir,  in  saying  so,"  re 
marked  the  lady,  "  I  think  you  have  been  very  fortu 
nate  in  your  choice  of  a  wife.  Mrs.  Everett  was  in 
my  family  nearly  a  year,  and  rendered  herself  beloved 
by  all  the  members.  Hannah  speaks  the  feelings  of 
all  of  us  when  she  expresses  her  regret.  She  had  a 
hearty  cry  when  we  received  the  word  from  Agnes  that 
neither  of  them  were  to  return." 

Juliette  found  them  smiling  when  she  entered.  She 
informed  the  lady  of  Agues'  marriage,  which  had  prob 
ably  taken  place  the  last  of  October. 

She  rose  to  go,  and  Mr.  Everett  took  the  opportu 
nity  to  thank  the  lady  for  her  kindness  to  his  wife,  ex 
pressing  his  cordial  assent  to  her  views  as  to  the  lovely 
character  of  the  lady. 

"  Oh  ! "    exclaimed  the  widow,  "  how  sorry  Annie 


JULIETTE.  399 

will  be  to  have  missed  your  call !  This  music  will  be 
a  great  source  of  pleasure  to  her.  I  cannot  bear  the 
thought  that  I  shall  never  hear  you  play  again." 

Without  a  word,  the  bride  pulled  off  her  gloves,  and, 
seating  herself  at  the  instrument,  played  and  sung  a 
piece  she  remembered  to  have  been  a  favorite  with  her 
hostess,  and  then,  with  kind  messages  to  the  absent 
ones,  hastened  to  the  carriage. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  as  they  drove  away,  "that 
I  have  detained  you  too  long ;  but  I  knew  it  would 
please  her  to  hear  me  play  and  sing  once  more.  She 
was  very  kind  when  I  was  with  her." 

What  the  young  husband  thought  as  he  gazed  in  her 
glowing,  expressive  face  I  cannot  tell;  but  he  said, 
softly,  "You  did  exactly  right,  Juliette,  as  you  always 
do.  I  am  constantly  taking  lessons  of  you." 

They  had  ordered  the  driver  to  take  them  next  to 
Mr.  B 's,  and,  on  their  way,  they  passed  the  Cor 
poration  boarding-house  where  poor  Juliette  spent  her 
first  days  in  Lowell.  She  was  looking  from  the  win 
dow,  and  sighed  at  the  recollection. 

Horace  quickly  demanded  an  explanation. 

"  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you  what  I  suffered  in 
that  house,"  she  answered,  seriously.  "Even  now  I 
cannot  recall  those  long  days  and  weary  nights  with 
out  a  shudder."  In  a  few  words,  she  gave  him  a 
sketch  of  the  character  of  the  landlady  and  her  fellow- 
boarders. 

"Do  you  wonder,"  she  asked,  "that  I  love  Agnes, 
who  helped  me  to  remove  so  quickly?  I  think 


400  JULIETTE. 

I  should  have  died  if  I  had  remained  there  much 
longer." 

"Dear  wife,"  murmured  Mr.  Everett,  drawing  her 
nearer  to  his  side,  as  if  he  would  shield  her  from  even 
the  recollection  of  such  trials  ;  "  you  endured  all  this 
for  the  love  of  Him  who  had  bought  you  with  his  own 
blood,  and  he  has  given  you  a  rich  reward." 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  exclaimed  Juliette,  her  face  brightening 
at  once.  "Think  of  dear  father ;  I  can  scarcely  realize 
it,  even  now,  that  he  has  taken  the  very  step  he  re 
fused  to  allow  me  to  take.  How  anxious  he  was  that 
I  should  go  forward  publicly,  with  him,  to  profess  his 
faith  in  the  merits  of  his  Saviour,  before  I  was  mar 
ried,  as  if  he  wished  to  show  that  it  was  by  his  sanction 
I  did  it !  " 

"Yes,"  rejoined  her  husband,  "I  could  hardly  ac 
count  for  his  haste  in  confessing  Christ,  though  I  have 
no  doubt  the  change  in  his  feelings  is  a  genuine  one, 
except  from  the  knowledge  of  his  general  character.  I 
have  heard  my  mother  say  that  whatever  he  under 
took,  he  carried  into  it  all  the  zeal  and  energy  of  his 
nature.  'She  ascribed  his  wonderful  success  in  busi 
ness  to  this  cause." 

"  This  is  Mr.  B 's,"  murmured  Juliette,  as  the 

carriage  stopped. 

The  interview  was  a  delightful  one.  The  good  pas 
tor  thanked  her  for  her  former  interest  in  his  church 
and  the  Sabbath  school ;  told  her  he  missed  her  as  a 
heaier,  and  wished  that  the  zeal  she  had  manifested 


JULIETTE.  401 

for  her  young  scholars  might  be  exhibited  for  others 
in  her  native  city. 

It  was  now  past  noon  ;  and  Juliette  hastened  to  give 
the  driver  directions  for  the  part  of  the  town  where 
many  of  the  foreign  population  lived,  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  her  scholars  while  they  were  out  of  school  for 
dinner. 

It  had  been  one  of  her  most  pleasant  employments, 
a  few.  days  before  she  left  New  York,  to  purchase  a 
handsome  Bible  for  each  of  the  young  girls  she  had 
taught ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  their  delight,  as,  en 
tering  the  crowded  rooms,  she  sought  out  one  and 
another,  and  presented  the  precious  volume  as  a  token 
of  her  interest  in  their  welfare. 

Scarcely  one  of  the  nine  received  the  announcement 
that  she  could  not  continue  their  teacher,  without  a 
burst  of  tears,  until  poor  Juliette  was  quite  overcome. 

"  What  is  there,"  she  exclaimed,  as  they  drove  rap 
idly  toward  the  hotel,  "in  the  gayeties  of  fashionable 
life  that  can  compensate  for  pleasures  like  these  ?  I 
am  indebted  to  those  nine  girls  for  some  of  the  happiest 
hours  I  ever  passed." 

"I  am  glad,  indeed,  to  have  seen  them,"  answered 
her  husband,  with  much  feeling.  "Agnes  told  me  of 
your  indefatigable  labors  for  their  good." 

Early  evening  found  them  back  in  their  rooms  at  the 
Tremont,  from  which  place  they  returned  the  next  day 
to  New  York,  to  be  in  season  for  the  visit  of  Agnes 
and  Mr.  Ashley  early  the  following  week. 

They  were  disappointed,  on  reaching  home,  to  find 
34* 


402  JULIETTE. 

that  Mr.  Fearing,  the  morning  after  they  left,  had  had 
a  slight  return  of  his  illness,  occasioned,  as  the  physi 
cian  supposed,  by  the  excitement  of  the  previous  day. 
His  father,  who  had  never  seen  him  suffering  under  an 
attack  of  convulsions  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  sup 
posed  him  dying,  and  was  urgent  with  Henry  to  tele 
graph  at  once  for  his  daughter. 

Dr.  M did  not  consider  this  necessary ;  but 

Susan  was  determined,  unless  he  were  speedily  re 
lieved,  to  send  to  Stamford  for  James. 

Juliette  was  quite  unnerved  at  the  delight  of  her 
father  on  seeing  her  enter  his  chamber.  Though  now 
able  to  sit  up,  and  looking  nearly  as  well  as  when  she 
left  home,  she  was  startled  at  the  impressive  tone  in 
which  he  said,  "I  can't  let  you  leave  me  again;  for  his 
mother's  sake,  Horace  must  allow  you  to  be  with  me 
the  short  time  I  shall  remain." 

Through  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  which  was  the 
Sabbath,  Juliette  scarcely  left  him  a  moment,  though, 
as  he  seemed  nearly  as  well  as  usual,  her  husband 
somewhat  urged  her  to  accompany  him  to  church  in 
the  morning,  and  even  Mr.  Fearing  added,  "Perhaps 
you  had  better  go,  dear ;  Susan  will  read  to  me  till  you 
return." 

But  a  feeling,  which  she  could  not  explain  to  herself, 
prompted  her  to  remain  by  his  side,  and  a  most  profita 
ble  Sabbath  it  proved. 

Mr.  Fearing  related  to  his  daughter,  more  fully  than 
he  had  ever  done  before,  an  account  of  the  various 
exercises  of  his  mind,  beginning  from  the  hour  of  his 


JULIETTE.  403 

mother's  decease,  when  he  resolved  to  search  the 
Bible  for  those  truths  so  precious  to  her  in  her  last  mo 
ments.  Then  the  anguish  he  endured  in  finding  his 
idolized  child  had  acted  upon  the  words  he  had  uttered 
in  his  hot  anger,  and,  dreading  to  be  forced  to  give  up 
her  Saviour,  had  fled  from  temptation  and  from  the 
endearments  of  home.  After  every  effort  at  finding 
her  had  failed,  a  constantly  increasing  conviction  of  her 
death  had  fastened  itself  upon  his  mind,  and  from  that 
moment  he  knew  no  rest.  He  shut  up  his  house  and 
fled  to  foreign  lands,  to  drown  the  ever-recurring  cry 
of  conscience,  "  You  have  killed  her.  Your  cruelty 
has  murdered  your  daughter."  When  they  met  Hor 
ace,  it  was  with  such  a  torrent  of  emotion  that  he  com 
municated  the  probability  of  her  decease,  that  the 
young  man,  wholly  misunderstanding  the  statement, 
had  never  ventured  to  advert  to  the  subject  again  in 
his  presence. 

"  I  travelled  with  the  gay  party  from  one  place  to 
another,"  he  went  on,  "finding  no  solace  except  in  the 
society  of  my  sorrowing  son,  who  mourned  the  loss  of 
one  so  dearly  loved,  until,  one  day  in  my  room,  I  took 
up  a  small  Bible  with  these  words  written  in  a  school 
girl's  hand,  on  the  fly-leaf,  "To  my  very  dear  brother, 
Horace  Everett,  from  his  affectionate  little  sister,  Juli 
ette."  It  bore  the  marks  of  constant  use,  and  I  began 
to  wonder  whether  he,  too,  loved  the  Bible.  Clinging 
to  it  because  it  had  been  yours,  I  hid  it  in  my  breast 
pocket;  and  when  Horace  entered  and  looked  anx- 


404  JULIETTE. 

iously  around  the  room,  I  said  nothing  of  having  it  ill 
my  possession. 

"  I  kept  it  for  months  and  read  in  it  daily ;  and  only 
returned  it  on  hearing  the  owner  one  day  deploring  its 
loss.  I  never  shall  forget  his  joy  at  recovering  his 
lost  treasure,  nor  the  haste  with  which  he  gave  me  in 
its  place  the  one  he  had  purchased  for  himself.  Though 
I  well  knew  he  loved  you,  I  had  no  idea,  until  then,  of 
the  ardor  of  his  attachment,  nor  of  the  depth  of  his 
suffering  at  your  supposed  decease. 

"Under  the  subduing  influence  of  this  discovery,  I 
ventured  to  hint  at  the  state  of  my  own  heart ;  but  he 
was  reserved.  I  suppose  his  knowing  my  bitter  preju 
dices  against  the  doctrines  of  grace,  together  with  the 
feeling  that  he  owed  me  the  respect  of  a  son ,  prevented 
his  addressing  me  with  the  frank  unreserve  and  faith 
fulness  which,  in  the  case  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Smith, 
have  been  so  blessed  to  my  soul. 

"  Tired  at  last  of  this  constant  struggle  with  con 
science,  I  announced  my  intention  of  returning  home. 
'It  can't  be  worse  there,'  I  said  to  myself,  'and  I 
shall  have  the  comfort  of  being  under  my  own  roof.' 

"But  once  here,  the  thought  of  you,  my  daughter, 
returned  with  tenfold  anguish.  I  shut  myself  up  from 
all  society,  and  found  no  peace  but  in  perusing  again, 
and  for  the  hundredth  time,  the  parable  of  the  prodi 
gal  son  returning  to  his  father.  'I  have  sinned,  I  have 
sinned,'  was  the  agonizing  cry  of  my  heart ;  but  how 
could  I,  a  murderer,  dare  add,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner '  ?  '  God  have  mercy  upon  me '  ? 


JULIETTE.  405 

"In  this  state  I  was,  when  Horace  entered  one 
morning,  gasping  with  some  ill-concealed  emotion. 
He  tried  to  prepare  me  ;  but  the  joyful  words,  '  Juliette 
is  alive  !  Juliette  is  well  and  will  soon  return  to  us  ! ' 
sounded  in  my  cars.  The  next  moment,  reason  and 
consciousness  were  lost  in  the  wild  excess  of  my  joy. 

"  Can  you  wonder,  my  dear,  that  I  was  carried  to 
the  gates  of  death  ?  But  I  struggled  for  life  ;  for  one 
precious  glimpse  of  you  ;  and  hope  began  to  whisper, 
'  God  is  merciful.  It  may  be  he  is  willing  to  save  you, 
even  you,  the  chief  of  sinners.' 

"  You  came  at  last,  and  know  how  rich  his  grace, 
how  abounding  his  love  has  proved  to  me." 

Juliette,  who  had  wept  tears  of  mingled  joy  and 
pain,  began  to  fear  lest  this  excitement  would  prove  a 
serious  injury  to  his  health.  She  put  her  arm  around 
him,  seating  herself  on  a  taboret  at  his  feet,  as  she  had 
done  on  her  first  return  from  school. 

He  kissed  her  affectionately,  as  he  said,  taking  a 
soiled,  worn  envelope  from  his  pocket,  "The  day  after 
you  were  married ,  a  bundle  of  letters  and  papers  were 
sent  to  me  from  the  store,  and  among  them  this," 
pressing  his  lips  upon  it,  "written  by  you  in  Stam 
ford,  and  which  has  followed  us  from  place  to  place, 
in  Europe,  until,  at  length,  I  received  it  here. 

"  O  Juliette,  I  hope  you  will  never  experience  such 
agony  as  I  felt  when  I  perused  that  heart-rending  ap 
peal  !  My  emotion  was  too  much  for  my  feeble 
frame,  and  I  had  a  slight  convulsion.  I  determined 
then,  that  if  I  lived  to  see  you  again,  I  would  lay  my 


406  JULIETTE. 

heart  bare  before  you,  and  then  once  more  implore 
your  forgiveness." 

Folding  the  letter  carefully  he  placed  it  in  another 
envelope  prepared  for  the  purpose,  with  the  words 
written  upon  it,  "To  be  placed  unopened  in  my  coffin 
and  buried  with  me,"  saying,  in  a  broken  voice,  "No 
eye  must  see  this ;  it  is  too  sacred." 


CHAPTER  XXXVn. 

"  Full  of  repentance, 

Continual  meditation,  tears,  and  sorrows, 
He  gave  his  riches  to  the  world  again ; 
His  humbled  soul  to  God,  and  slept  in  peace." 

AFTER  the  second  service,  Mrs.  Everett  rang  for 
Eliza  to  bring  a  cup  of  tea  to  her  father's  room, 
as  she  intended  to  excuse  herself  from  the  table. 

When  he  saw  the  preparations  for  his  evening  meal, 
Mr.  Fearing  smiled  as  he  pointed  to  the  dainty  little 
tete-a-tete  set,  and  said,  "Well,  I  have  no  doubt  I 
shall  eat  with  a  better  relish." 

At  last  Eliza  announced  that  all  was  ready,  and  Ju 
liette  playfully  waited  upon  her  father  to  a  seat  at  one 
end  of  the  small  table,  while  she  took  her  place  oppo 
site  him.  The  tea  was  served  in  small  china  cups  of 
an  antique  pattern,  and  the  bride  was  just  abooit  to 
pour  his,  when  he  put  up  his  hand,  "  Stop  a  minute, 
my  dear." 

He  then  in  a  few  fervent  words  implored  the  bless 
ing  of  their  heavenly  Father  upon  the  food  now  set 
before  them,  ending  thus  :  "  That  in  living  and  dying 
we  ma}'  glorify  thy  name." 

There  was  a  solemnity  in  his  manner,  and  an  im- 
pressiveness  in  his  tone,  as  he  pronounced  the  last 

407 


408  JULIETTE. 

words,  which  sent  a  thrill  of  pain  through  his  daugh 
ter's  heart.  She  tried  to  shake  it  off  and  appear  com 
posed,  but  was  sure  he  noticed  the  trembling  of  her 
hand  as  she  passed  him  the  cup. 

He  conversed  cheerfully  during  the  repast  which,  he 
assured  her,  owing  to  her  presence,  he  enjoyed  much ; 
spoke  of  his  hope  regarding  his  son,  and  of  his  inter 
est  in  Susan.  "I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "to  have  had  my 
father  meet  her  here,  and  still  more  so  to  see  that  her 
artless,  unaffected  warmth  of  manner  has  quite  won  his 
heart." 

Horace  excused  himself  from  the  table  after  the  first 
course,  to  join  the  party  above  stairs  ;  and  here,  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  evening,  the  others  were  summoned 
for  family  devotion. 

Horace,  as  usual,  read  a  short  portion  of  Scripture, 
and  was  about  to  lead  in  prayer,  when,  with  a  slight 
motion,  Mr.  Fearing  interrupted  him,  and,  rising 
slowly  from  his  scat,  began  the  exercise  himself. 

The  old  gentleman  was  greatly  affected,  and  hurried 
from  the  room  the  moment  the  prayer  was  concluded. 
Juliette  noticed,  too,  that  Henry's  eyes  glistened  with 
interest. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Fearing,  "  Johnson  may- come  to 
me.  I  wish  to  retire  to  rest." 

This  man,  who  had  accompanied  him  in  all  his  trav 
els,  was  a  most  faithful  servant,  and  had  slept  in  his 
room  ever  since  his  first  attack  of  sickness.  When  he 
came,  in  answer  to  the  bell,  Juliette  kissed  her  father 
and  bade  him  good-night. 


JULIETTE.  409 

He  patted  her  cheek  affectionately,  saying,  "You 
have  been  a  good  girl,  to-day  ;"  and  then  added,  "run 
away  now,  dear,  and  get  all  the  sleep  you  can." 

She  repeated  this  remark  to  her  husband,  and  won 
dered  what  he  meant. 

Toward  noon,  on  Monday,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley  ar 
rived,  but  only  to  remain  for  a  few  hours,  as  the  pastor 
had  been  summoned  home  in  consequence  of  the  severe 
illness  of  one  of  his  parishioners. 

The  two  brides  met  most  cordially,  and  began  to 
chat  at  once  on  subjects  interesting  to  both. 

"I  am  disappointed,"  said  Agnes,  "not  to  return 
home  through  Lowell,  as  we  intended,  but  must  defer 
my  visit  there  until  another  time." 

Juliette  then  gave  a  brief  account  of  her  calls  upon 
their  former  friends. 

"I  find  Mr.  Ashley  is  a  perfect  tyrant !  "  exclaimed 
the  young  bride,  in  a  tone  intended  to  reach  his  ears. 
"I  had  no  idea  he  was  so  set  in  his  way.  Why,  after 
we  received  the  letter  from  home,  he  seemed  so  grave 
and  anxious,  that  I  urged  him  to  go  direct  from  Al 
bany  ;  but  he  was  as  firm  as  a  rock,  and  I  had  to  sub 
mit  with  the  best  grace  I  could." 

Juliette  glauced  at  the  gentleman,  but  he  appeared 
wholly  ^unmoved  at  this  serious  charge  against  his  char 
acter,  while  her  friend  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  He  knew 
how  terribly  disappointed  I  should  be  to  go  home  with 
out  seeing  you,  and  thought,  by  taking  the  express 
train  to-night,  we  could  reach  W almost  as  soon." 

Juliette » presently  invited  Mrs.  Ashley  to  her  suite 

35 


410  JULIETTE. 

of  apartments  upstairs,  which  had  been  handsomely 
decorated  on  the  occasion  of  her  marriage. 

"  And  though  you  had  been  accustomed  to  all  this 
luxury,  you  could  content  yourself  in  our  small  room 
at  Mrs.  Palmer's,"  cried  Agnes,  raising  her  hands  in 
astonishment.  "  O  Juliette  !  how  few  there  are  who 
would  not  have  compromised  between  their  two  mas 
ters  !  " 

"  I  brought  you  here  to  whisper  one  little  word  of 
advice,  dear  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Everett,  affectionately 
taking  Agnes'  hand.  "If  you  wish  to  have  your 
people  respect  their  pastor  you  must  show  them  that 
you  do  so.  It  grieved  me  to  hear  you  call  so  good  a 
man  and  so  kind  a  husband  a  tyrant,  even  in  joke." 

"  I'm  likely  to  learn  all  my  faults  between  you  and 
Mr.  Ashley,"  returned  the  othe,r,  half  laughing. 
"But,"  she  added,  more  earnestly,  "I  do  love  you, 
Juliette,  and  wish  I  were  more  like  you,  and  really  I 
thank  you  for  your  advice." 

Mr.  Fearing  wrell  remembered  his  son's  friend,  who 
had  passed  one  of  their  college  vacations  at  his  house, 
and  sent  down  word  to  his  daughter  that  he  should 
like  to  see  them  in  his  room. 

Mrs.  Ashley,  who  had  heard  from  her  husband  of 
his  cruelty  to  her  dear  friend,  had  conceived  a  strong 
prejudice  against  him,  and  was  rather  reluctant  to 
obey  the  summons  ;  but  a  single  glance  into  his  face, 
glowing  as  it  was  with  interest  for  one  who  had  be 
friended  his  daughter,  and  all  resentment  against  him 
vanished.  • 


JULIETTE.  411 

He  extended  his  hand  with  great  cordiality,  tender 
ness  even  ;  apologized  for  being  obliged  to  receive 
them  in  his  chamber,  and  then  went  on  to  thank  the 
young  lady  for  her  attention  to  his  Juliette,  every  now 
and  then  casting  upon  the  latter  a  glance  brimful  of 
affection. 

With  Mr.  Ashley  he  conversed  about  his  parish, 
and  subjects  in  general,  for  an  hour,  until  the  servant 
summoned  them  to  the  early  dinner,  which  Mrs. 
Everett  had  ordered  for  her  guests. 

"Mr.  Everett,"  cried  Agnes,  as  they  stood  together 
while  the  carriage  was  waiting  to  take  them  to  the 
cars,  "Juliette  and  I  have  been  talking  about  our  hus 
bands  ;  and  we  each  are  satisfied  that  our  own  is  the 
best  in  the  world.  Mr.  Ashley  has  promised  if  I'm 
good  and  dutiful  and  so  forth,  that  I  may  come  to  New 
York  for  a  longer  visit  next  year;  so  by  that  time 
you'll  scarcely  know  me,  I'm  going  to  try  so  hard  to 
imitate  your  wife." 

"  No,  no,"  rejoined  Juliette,  playfully,  "  try  to  be 
and  act  yourself.  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  my  friend 
Agnes." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  have  seen  your  father,"  said  her 
companion.  "I  do  think  he  has  a  most  heavenly  ex 
pression." 

Mrs.  Everett  sighed  ;  she  had  thought  the  same,  but 
a  nameless  fear  crept  over  her  at  hearing  it  expressed. 

"  She  is  a  noble-hearted  woman,"  she  exclaimed  to 
her  husband,  as  they  were  ascending  the  stairs  to  her 
father's  chamber  after  their  friends  had  left.  "  Mrs. 


412  JULIETTE. 

Ashley  has  been  telling  me  about  her  brother  Caleb 
whom  she  has  supported  all  the  time  she  has  worked 
in  the  factory,  that  he  might  acquire  an  education. 

"He  is  now  ready  to  be  licensed  to  preach,  but  is 
intending  to  take  a  school  for  the  winter  in  order  to 
pay  his  expenses  at  a  theological  seminary  for  a  few 
months  next  year." 

Mr.  Fearing  seemed  much  interested  in  the  con 
versation,  but  at  an  earlier  hour  then  usual  requested 
Horace  to  read  and  pray.  He  then  called  Juliette  to 
his  side  and  asked  whether  she  expected  Henry  would 
return  to-night  from  Stamford  (he  had  gone  early  in 
the  morning  to  accompany  Susan  home) . 

-  His  father  came  in  while  they  were  talking  to  bid 
his  sou  good-night ;  and  he  held  the  old  gentleman's 
hand  in  his  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  had  something  more 
he  desired  to  say  to  him  ;  but  at  last  only  repeated  the 
wish  that  he  might  enjoy  a  refreshing  sleep. 

When  her  grandfather  had  left  the  room  Juliette 
said,  "  You  are  tired,  father  ;  and  I  ought  to  go,  too  ;  " 
but  instead  of  that,  she  slid  down  on  a  taboret  at  his 
feet,  and  in  her  fond  way  laid  her  head  on  his  knee. 

He  placed  his  hand  on  her  cheek,  and  she  could  feel 
that  it  trembled  as  he  said  to  Horace,  "Be  gentle  with 
her,  my  son.  She  has  a  loving  heart.  '  You  must 
make  up  to  her,  by  your  affection,  for  all  the  harsh 
treatment  she  has  received  from  me." 

"  Father !  father !  "  she  cried,  catching  his  hand, 
M  oh,  why  will  you  refer  to  that  which  I  have  so  long 


JULIETTE.  413 

forgotten?     Never  had  child   so  tender,  so  loving  a 
father." 

With  a  sudden  gasp,  Mr.  Fearing  pressed  his  hand 
to  his  heart,  but  when  his  companions,  alarmed  at  his 
pallor,  quickly  asked,  "Are  you  ill?"  he  answered 
with  a  smile,  "  It  has  passed  now." 

His  daughter,  however,  could  not  shake  off  the  idea 
that  he  was  suffering,  and  even  after  she  had  re 
luctantly  bid  him  good-night  when  Johnson  came  to 
assist  him  to  bed,  she  made  an  excuse  to  go  back  to 
ask  whether  she  could  do  nothing  more  for  his  com 
fort? 

He  held  her  before  him  and  gazed  earnestly  in  her 
face  a  moment,  saying,  "I  never  noticed  how  much  you 
resemble  your  mother,  my  dear."  Then  requesting 
her  to  hold  a  miniature  of  his  deceased  Juliette,  which 
be  wore  on  his  neck,  where  he  could  see  it,  he  regard 
ed  it  tenderly,  and  added,  "Don't  let  this  be  removed 
from  my  breast." 

Johnson  stood  waiting,  and  at  last  suggested  a  fear 
that  his  master  would  become  too  much  excited  to 
sleep,  when  his  daughter  reluctantly  left  the  room. 

It  was  but  little  past  midnight,  when  a  loud  cry 
for  help  started  her  from  her  slumber.  Throwing 
hastily  over  her  shoulders  a  large  shawl,  she  rushed 
to  the  door  exclaiming,  "  O  Horace  !  quick  !  quick  !  it 
is  father  !  let  us  go  to  him  !  " 

They  met  Johnson  at  the    door  coming  to   rouse 
them,  his  cheeks  blanched  with  terror.     "  He's  going 
fast,  miss,"  he  said,  in  a  shaking  voice.  ' 
35* 


414  JULIETTE. 

But  Juliette  had  rushed  past  them  both,  and  was 
already  on  her  knees  beside  the  dying  man.  Yes,  one 
glance  into  his  face,  and  the  fatal  truth  fastened  itself 
with  irresistible  force  upon  her  mind. 

With  one  heart-rending  cry,  she  hid  her  face  in  the 
bedclothes,  but  his  voice,  calm  and  clear,  roused  her. 
"  Stand  up,  Juliette,  where  I  can  see  you.  My  sum 
mons  has  come.  It  is  not  unwelcome,  nor  unexpected. 
I  have  a  blessed  assurance  that  I  am  going  into  the 
presence  of  my  Saviour  to  spend  an  eternity  in  singing 
his  matchless  love." 

He  raised  his  eyes,  while  a  seraphic  smile  illumi 
nated  his  whole  countenance. 

At  this  moment  his  father,  whom  Horace  had  hastily 
summoned,  came  forward,  weeping  and  trembling,  to 
the  side  of  the  bed. 

After  a  short  spasm  of  pain,  the  dying  son  took  his 
father's  hand  and  said,  "I  am  going  home.  I  shall 
Bee  mother  there.  Shall  I  tell  her  you  love  her 
Saviour,  and  will  soon  follow  us  ?  " 

A  terrible  groan  was  the  only  reply.  "  Dear  father, 
listen  to  the  words  of  a  dying  man ;  you  will  never 
have  peace  till  you  find  it  at  the  foot  of  the  cross." 

By  this  time  all  the  servants  in  the  house  were 
collected  in  the  room,  and  stood  weeping  around  the 
bed. 

Mr.  Fearing  alone  seemed  calm  and  undismayed. 
"Tell  Henry,"  he  said,  turning  to  Horace,  "not  to 
waste  his  youth  and  manhood  as  I  have  done ;  but  to 
devote  his  best  strength  to  the  service  of  his  heavenly 


JULIETTE.  415 

Master.  On  you,  my  dear  son,  I  have  bestowed  the 
most  precious  gift  in  my  possession.  I  am  sure  you 
will  aid  each  other  in  every  Christian  virtue." 

Turning  to  his  daughter,  he  added,  "  I  want  to  hear 
you  sing  once  more." 

She  tried  in  vain  to  suppress  her  sobs,  and  at  last 
shook  her  head  to  intimate  that  she  could  not  com 
mand  her  voice. 

"For  his  sake,  try  to  compose  yourself,  dear 
Juliette,"  whispered  her  husband. 

One  minute  more  of  almost  convulsive  effort,  and 
her  sweet  voice,  feeble  and  trembling,  commenced  the 
precious  words,  — 

"  Now  and  forever  I 

This  promise  our  trust, 
Though  ashes  to  ashes, 

And  dust  unto  dust, 
Now  and  forever 

Our  union  shall  be 
Made  perfect  our  glorious 

Redeemer  in  thee. 

"  When  the  sins  and  the  sorrows 

Of  time  shall  be  o'er, 
Its  pangs  and  its  partings 

Remembered  no  more, 
When  life  cannot  fail, 

And  when  death  cannot  sever, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Now  and  forever." 

Juliette  bent  over  him,  her  tears  falling  un 
consciously  upon  his  head. 

"Thank  you,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  feebly  drawing 
her  toward  him  and  kissing  her  cheek.  "  Now  I  must 
bid  you  farewell." 


416  JULIETTE. 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  his  lips  moved  as  if  he 
were  praying  ;  but  presently  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  — 

"  I  wish  to  bear  my  testimony  to  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus." 

These  were  his  last  words,  though  for  nearly  an 
hour  he  appeared  to  breathe. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Horace  led  the  weeping 
daughter  from  the  room,  exclaiming,  as  he  pointed  to 
the  bright  smile  which  lingered  upon  the  countenance 
of  the  departed,  "  It  may  be  he  is  hearing  even  now 
his  Saviour's  voice,  '  This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in 
Paradise.' " 


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